iH'mimim muni iiiiinriHiiiniiM imnnMiii.ii1  "'"mi'i »'"  "u»'mMiiuw»iii 


The  Grip  of  Honor 


"  It  seems  to  be  made  out  properly  and  duly  signed  and  sealed,1'  said 
the  captain,  slowly. 


The  Grip  of  Honor 


A  Story  of  Paul  Jones  and  the  American 
Revolution 


BY 

CYRUS   TOWNSEND    BRADY 

AUTHOR  OF  "FOR  LOVE  OF  COUNTRY,"  "FOR  THE  FREEDOM 
OF  THE  SEA,"  ETC. 


The  fear  o'    Hell's  a  hangman's  whip 

To  haud  the  wretch  in  order ; 
But  where  ye  feel  your  honor  grip, 

Let  that  aye  be  your  border ; 
Its  slightest  touches,  instant  pause  — 

Debar  a'  side-pretences  j 
And  resolutely  keep  its  laws, 

Uncaring  consequences. 

BURNS 


NEW   YORK 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1900 


Copyright,  1900 
BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


All  rights  reserved 


UNIVERSITY   PRESS    .    JOHN    WILSON 
AND    SON     .     CAMBRIDGE,     U.S.A. 


TO 

COLONEL  JOHN   LEWIS    GOOD,  U.  S.  V., 

AND    THE    OFFICERS    AND    MEN    OF 
THE    FIRST    PENNSYLVANIA    UNITED    STATES    VOLUNTEERS, 

MY    COMRADES    IN    THE    SPANISH-AMERICAN    WAR, 
THIS    BOOK    IS    AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED. 


2046580 


Note 


THE  interests  of  the  story  require  some  slight 
variations  from  exact  history  in  the  movements  of 
the  Serapis  and  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  before 
their  famous  battle,  for  which  the  author  asks  the 
indulgence  of  the  reader.  In  all  other  respects  it 
is  believed  the  account  of  the  battle  is  sufficiently 
accurate  to  present  a  true  picture  of  the  most 
famous  single-ship  action  ever  fought  upon  the 
seas. 


Contents 


115oofc  I 

THEY   MEET   AND   PART 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I    A  STERN  CHASE  ON  A  LEE  SHORE    ....  3 

II    THE  CAPTOR  CAPTURED 15 

III  A  GENTLE  PIRATE 23 

IV  ENTER  MAJOR  COVENTRY 30 

V    SWORDS  ARE  CROSSED  ON  THE  SAND     ...  38 

VI    THE  MASTER  PLAYER  TAKES  A  HAND  ...  47 

HBoofe  II 

THEY   MEET   AGAIN 

VII     AFTER  A  LONG  TIME 55 

VIII    LADY  ELIZABETH  DOES  NOT  KNOW  THE  MAR 
QUIS   DE   RlCHEMONT 66 

IX    THE  PICTURE  ON  THE  WALL 75 

X    LADY  ELIZABETH  WILL  KEEP  HER  WORD  .     .  83 

XI     O'NEILL  WILL  KEEP  HIS  HONOR 92 

XII     GENTLEMEN  ALL 106 

ix 


CONTENTS 


315oofc  III 

ON   THE   VERGE   OF   ETERNITY 
CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIII  A  DESPERATE  MOVE 121 

XIV  ALMOST  THE  END 131 

XV    A  SOLDIER  AND  A  GENTLEMAN 145 

315oofc  IV 

THE   SELFISHNESS   OF   LOVE 

XVI    IN  THE  LINE  OF  HIS  DUTY 161 

XVII     DIFFERING  STANDARDS 169 

HBook  V 

IN   THE   HELL   OF   BATTLE,  ALL 

XVIII  THE  BOYS  IN  COMMAND 181 

XIX  'TWEEN  DECKS  WITH  THE  MEN 192 

XX  THE  INDOMITABLE  EGO 203 

XXI  THE  AUDACITY  OF  DESPAIR 214 

XXII  SINKING,  BUT  TRIUMPHANT 220 

Boofe  VI 

THE   HAND   OF   GOD 

XXIII  ON  BOARD  THE  SERAPIS  AGAIN 229 

XXIV  NOT  GUILTY,  MY  LORD 241 


Illustrations 


"  It  seems  to  be  made  out  properly  and  duly  signed  and 

sealed,"  said  the  captain,  slowly Frontispiece 

TO  FACE  PAGE 

Elizabeth  stood  with  clasped  hands,  her  face  pale  with 

emotion,  eagerly  watching 44 

He  watched  her  in  awe-struck  silence,  sank  on  his  knees, 

stretched  out  his  arms 106 

The  sharp  crack  of  a  musket  rang  out  in  the  air       .     .     .166 


BOOK    I 

THEY    MEET   AND    PART 


THE  GRIP  OF  HONOR 

CHAPTER  I 

A  Stern  Chase  on  a  Lee  Shore 

"  A"  |^HE  wind  is  freshening ;  we  gain  upon  her 
easily,  I  think,  sir." 

"  Decidedly.  This  is  our  best  point  of  sailing,  and 
our  best  wind,  too.  We  can't  be  going  less  than  ten 
knots,"  said  the  captain,  looking  critically  over  the 
bows  at  the  water  racing  alongside. 

"  I  can  almost  make  out  the  name  on  her  stern  now 
with  the  naked  eye,"  replied  the  other,  staring  hard 
ahead  through  the  drift  and  spray. 

"  Have  you  a  glass  there,  Mr.  O'Neill?"  asked  the 
captain. 

"Yes,  sir,  here  it  is,"  answered  that  gentleman, 
handing  him  a  long,  old-fashioned,  cumbrous  brass 
telescope,  which  he  at  once  adjusted  and  focused  on 
the  ship  they  were  chasing. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  elder  of  the  two  speakers,  a  small, 
slender  man,  standing  lightly  poised  on  the  topgallant 
forecastle  with  the  careless  confidence  of  a  veteran 
seaman,  as  he  examined  the  chase  through  the  glass 
which  the  taller  and  younger  officer  handed  him ;  "  I 
can  read  it  quite  plainly  with  this.  The  M-a-i-d  — •• 

3 


THE   GRIP   OF    HONOR 

Maidstone,  a  trader  evidently,  as  I  see  no  gun-ports 
nor  anything  that  betokens  an  armament."  He  ran 
the  tubes  of  the  glass  into  each  other  and  handed  it 
back,  remarking,  "  At  this  rate  we  shall  have  her  in 
a  short  time." 

"She  is  a  fast  one,  though,"  replied  the  other; 
"  it 's  no  small  task  for  anything  afloat  to  show  us  her 
heels  for  so  long  a  time ;  let  me  see  —  it  was  six  bells 
in  the  morning  watch  when  we  raised  her,  was  it  not, 
sir?" 

"  Yes,  't  is  rather  remarkable  going  for  a  merchant 
vessel,  but  we  have  the  heels  of  her  and  will  get  her 
soon  unless  she  goes  to  the  bottom  on  those  reefs 
round  the  Land's  End  yonder.  It 's  a  nasty  place 
to  be  tearing  through  in  that  wild  way,"  he  added 
thoughtfully. 

"  Shall  I  give  her  a  shot,  sir,  from  the  starboard 
bow-chaser  ?  " 

"  Not  just  yet;  it  would  be  useless,  as  we  are  not 
quite  within  range,  and  she  would  pay  no  heed ;  be 
sides,  we  shall  have  her  without  it,  and  't  is  hardly 
worth  while  wasting  a  shot  upon  her  at  present." 

The  brief  conversation  took  place  forward  upon 
the  forecastle  of  the  American  Continental  ship 
Ranger,  between  her  captain,  John  Paul  Jones, 
and  her  first  lieutenant,  one  Barry  O'Neill,  Marquis 
de  Richemont,  sometime  officer  in  the  navy  of  his 
Most  Christian  Majesty,  the  King  of  France.  O'Neill 
was  the  son  of  a  marshal  of  France,  an  Irish  gentle 
man  of  high  birth  and  position,  who  had  gone  out 
as  a  mere  lad  with  the  young  Stuart  in  the  '45,  and 

4 


A   STERN   CHASE   ON   A  LEE   SHORE 

whose  property  had  been  confiscated,  and  himself 
attainted  and  sentenced  to  death  for  high  treason. 
Fortunately  he  had  escaped  to  the  Continent,  and 
had  entered  the  service  of  the  King  of  France ; 
where,  through  his  extraordinary  ability  and  courage, 
coupled  with  several  brilliant  opportunities  he  had 
made  and  enjoyed,  he  had  risen  to  exalted  station 
and  great  wealth.  He  had  always  continued  more  or 
less  of  a  conspirator  in  the  cause  of  the  royal  Stuarts, 
however,  and  his  son,  following  in  his  footsteps,  had 
been  mixed  up  in  every  treasonable  Jacobite  enter 
prise  which  had  been  undertaken,  and  was  under  the 
same 'ban  of  the  British  throne  as  was  his  father. 

When  Paul  Jones  in  the  historic  ship  Ranger 
came  to  France,  O'Neill,  moved  by  a  spirit  of  ad 
venture  and  his  ever  present  desire  to  strike  a  blow 
at  King  George,  received  permission  to  enter  the 
American  service  temporarily,  with  several  other 
French  officers.  The  Ranger  was  already  some  days 
out  on  her  successful  cruise,  when,  early  on  a  morn 
ing  in  the  month  of  April  in  the  year  1778,  they 
had  sighted  a  ship  trying  to  beat  around  the  Land's 
End.  Sail  had  at  once  been  made  in  chase,  and 
the  stranger  was  now  almost  within  the  grasp  of  the 
American  pursuers. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  sir,"  said  O'Neill  to  the  captain, 
"  that  unless  she  goes  about  presently,  she  won't 
weather  that  long  reef  over  beyond  her,  where  those 
breakers  are." 

"  Ay,"  said  Jones ;  "  and  if  she  goes  about,  she  's 
ours,  and  —  "  He  paused  significantly. 

5 


THE  GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Knot,  sir?" 

"  She  's  God's  !  "  added  the  captain,  solemnly. 

The  wind  was  blowing  at  a  furious  rate.  The 
Ranger  had  a  single  reef  in  her  topsails,  with  her 
topgallant  sails  set  above  them.  The  masts  were 
straining  and  buckling  like  bound  giants,  and  the 
ship  quivered  and  trembled  like  a  smitten  harp- 
string,  as  she  pitched  and  plunged  in  the  heavy 
seas.  The  wind  roaring  through  the  iron-taut  rig 
ging,  and  the  wild  spray  dashing  over  the  sides,  ren 
dered  conversation  almost  impossible.  The  motley 
crew  of  the  Ranger  were  gathered  forward,  cluster 
ing  on  the  rail  and  lower  shrouds,  keeping  of  course 
at  a  respectful  distance  from  their  captain  and  his  first 
lieutenant,  and  some  of  the  other  officers  grouped 
near  them. 

"  She  must  tack,  now,"  said  Jones  at  last,  "  or 
she  's  lost.  I  know  these  waters  ;  I  have  sailed  them 
many  times  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  doubt  if  they  can 
weather  that  reef  even  —  By  heavens  !  There 's 
a  woman  on  board  of  her,  too  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  his 
keen  eye  detected  the  flutter  of  drapery  and  a  dash 
of  color  among  a  little  group  of  men  on  the  deck  of 
the  Maidstone,  evidently  staring  aft  at  her  relentless 
pursuer. 

"  See  everything  in  readiness  for  quick  work  here. 
Gentlemen,"  continued  the  captain,  "  to  your  stations 
all.  Mr.  O'Neill,  remain  with  me."  The  men  hastened 
to  their  places  at  once,  and  a  little  silence  supervened. 

"You  may  give  her  a  shot  now,  Mr.  O'Neill,"  said 
Jones  at  last ;  "  it  may  bring  them  to  tacking  and  save 

6 


A   STERN   CHASE   ON   A   LEE   SHORE 

them  from  wreck.  Pitch  it  alongside  of  her;  we  don't 
want  to  hurt  the  woman,  and  it 's  not  necessary  to 
touch  the  ship." 

"  Clear  away  that  starboard  bow-chaser,"  called  the 
lieutenant ;  and  the  men,  scarcely  waiting  for  his  word 
of  command,  cast  loose  the  gun.  "  Aft  there,  stand 
by  to  give  her  a  touch  of  the  helm  ! "  he  cried  with 
raised  voice. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  came  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Price,"  continued  O'Neill  to  the  captain  of  the 
piece,  "  you  need  not  hit  her ;  just  throw  a  shot 
alongside  of  her.  Are  you  ready?" 

"  All  ready,  sir,"  answered  the  old  seaman,  care 
fully  shifting  his  quid  and  squinting  along  the  gun. 

"  Luff !"  shouted  O'Neill,  in  his  powerful  voice. 
The  quartermaster  put  the  wheel  over  a  few  spokes, 
and  the  Ranger  shot  up  into  the  wind  a  little  and 
hung  quivering  a  moment  with  checked  way. 

"  Give  her  a  touch  with  the  right-hand  spike, 
lads,"  said  old  Price.  "  Steady,  shove  in  that  quoin  a 
little  ;  easy  there,  overhaul  those  tackles  !  All  ready, 
sir." 

"Now!"  cried  O'Neill. 

A  booming  roar  and  a  cloud  of  smoke  broke  out 
forward,  and  the  ball  ricochetted  along  the  water  and 
sank  just  under  the  quarter  of  the  chase. 

"  Let  her  go  off  again,"  cried  O'Neill  to  the  quar 
termaster,  and  a  moment  later,  as  the  sails  filled  and 
she  heeled  once  more  to  the  wind ;  "  very  well  dyce, 
enough  off,"  he  cried. 

"  A  good  shot,  Master  Price,  and  a  glass  of  grog 
7 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

for  you    presently   in   reward,"   said    Jones,  quietly 
"  Ah !  we  shall  have  some  answer,  at  any  rate." 

At  this  moment  a  small  red  flag  broke  out  from 
the  gaff  of  the  English  vessel. 

"  Show  our  own  colors  aft  there,  though  they  can 
scarcely  see  them,"  cried  the  captain  ;  "  he  's  a  plucky 
one,  that  fellow.  What 's  he  doing  now?  'Fore  Gad, 
he 's  got  a  gun  over  the  quarter,  a  stern-chaser. 
Must  have  arms  on  board." 

The  Ranger  was  rushing  through  the  water  again 
at  a  rapidly  increasing  rate,  almost  burying  her 
lee  cathead  in  the  foaming  sea  under  the  freshen 
ing  breeze,  and  was  now  very  near  the  Maidstone, 
which  at  this  moment  discharged  the  small  stern- 
chaser  which  had  been  dragged  astern,  the  shot 
from  which  passed  harmlessly  through  the  bellying 
foresail  above  their  heads. 

"  Give  her  another,  Price,"  said  O'Neill,  upon  a 
nod  from  Jones. 

"  Into  her  this  tim--,  sir?  " 

"Yes,  anywhere  you  like." 

The  Ranger  luffed  again,  losing  a  little  dis 
tance  as  she  did  so,  but  weathering  appreciably 
on  the  stranger,  and  this  time  the  flying  splinters 
from  the  stern  of  the  chase  showed  that  the  shot 
had  met  its  mark.  There  was  a  sudden  scattering  of 
the  men  upon  her  quarter,  and  most  of  them  disap 
peared,  but  the  young  girl  could  be  seen  holding  on 
to  the  weather  spanker  vang,  and  apparently  looking 
defiantly  at  them.  O'Neill  took  up  the  glass  and 
examined  her. 

8 


A  STERN    CHASE   ON   A  LEE   SHORE 

"  Faith,  sir,  she  looks  as  pretty  as  she  is  brave. 
See  for  yourself,  sir,"  he  added,  as  he  handed  the 
telescope  to  the  captain,  who  took  a  careful  look  at 
her  through  the  glass. 

"  You  have  a  good  eye  for  the  beautiful,"  he  re 
plied,  smiling,  "  even  at  a  long  range.  Secure  the 
bow-chaser,  sir;  we  are  within  musket  range  of  her." 

While  this  was  being  done,  the  Ranger  had  crept 
up  on  the  stranger  till  her  bow  began  to  overreach  the 
weather  quarter  of  the  other  vessel.  As  they  held 
on  recklessly  together,  suddenly  the  speed  of  the 
chase  was  diminished.  Her  helm  was  put  down,  and 
with  sails  quivering  and  swaying  she  swung  up  into 
the  wind. 

"We  have  her  now,"  said  Jones,  springing  on  the 
rail  and  leaning  over  forward ;  "  nay,  it 's  too  late. 
Missed  stays  !  By  Heaven,  she  's  in  irons  !  She  's 
doomed  !  Aft  there  !  steady  with  the  helm  !  Give 
her  a  good  full." 

In  the  next  instant,  with  a  crash  heard  above  the 
roar  of  the  storm  even  upon  the  other  ship,  the  ill- 
fated  Maidstone  drove  upon  the  reef  broadside 
on.  The  shock  of  meeting  was  tremendous :  her 
masts  were  snapped  short  off  like  pipe  stems  ;  the 
howling  gale  jerked  them  over  the  sides,  where  they 
thundered  and  beat  upon  the  ship  with  tremendous 
force.  The  girl  disappeared. 

"  Breakers  ahead ! "  on  the  instant  roared  out  a 
half-dozen  voices  in  the  forecastle. 

"  Breakers  on  the  starboard  bow !  "  came  the  wild 
cry  from  all  sides. 

9 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  Down  with  the  helm,  hard  down  !  "  shouted 
O'Neill,  with  a  seaman's  ready  instinct,  without  wait 
ing  for  the  captain.  There  was  a  moment  of  confu 
sion  on  the  deck. 

"  Steady  with  the  helm,  steady,  sir  !  "  cried  Jones, 
in  his  powerful  voice,  with  an  imperious  wave  of  his 
hand.  "  Silence  fore  and  aft  the  decks !  Every  man 
to  his  station  !  Keep  her  a  good  full,  quartermaster. 
Keep  that  helm  as  you  have  it.  Look  yonder,  sir," 
he  added,  pointing  to  larboard  to  another  danger. 
"  Ready  about,  stations  for  stays !  Aft  with  you, 
Mr.  O'Neill,  and  see  that  the  helm  is  shifted  exactly 
as  I  direct.  Make  no  mistake !  Lively,  men,  for 
your  lives !  " 

The  eager  crew  sprang  to  their  stations.  There 
was  another  moment  or  two  of  confusion ;  and  as  they 
settled  down,  the  silence  was  broken  only  by  the 
wind  and  the  waves.  The  water  was  seething  and 
whirling  under  the  forefoot  of  the  Ranger.  The 
reefs  upon  which  the  Maidstone  had  crashed  were 
dangerously  near.  But  the  keen  eye  of  the  captain  had 
seen  on  the  other  side  a  slender  needle  of  rock  over 
which  the  waves  broke  in  seething  fury  as  it  thrust 
itself  menacingly  out  of  the  angry  ocean.  They  were 
right  among  the  reefs,  and  only  the  most  complete 
knowledge  and  consummate  seamanship  could  save 
them.  It  was  there. 

To  tack  ship  now  and  come  up  in  the  wind  would 
throw  them  on  the  rocky  needle ;  to  go  off  would 
bring  them  down  upon  the  other  reefs.  Jones,  en 
tirely  master  of  the  situation,  perfectly  cool  in  appear- 

10 


A   STERN   CHASE   ON   A   LEE   SHORE 

ance,  though  his  eyes  snapped  and  sparkled  with 
fire,  leaned  out  above  the  knightheads  and  keenly 
scanned  the  sea  before  him.  There  was  just  room 
for  the  Ranger  to  pass  between  the  two  reefs.  A 
hair's  breadth  on  either  side  would  mean  destruction. 
As  the  captain  watched  the  boiling  water  he  seemed 
to  detect,  through  a  slight  change  in  the  course,  a 
tremor  in  the  hand  on  the  wheel. 

"  Aft  there  !  "  he  shouted  promptly,  "  what  are  you 
about?      Steady    with    that    helm!       No    higher  — 
nothing  off  !  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  replied  O'Neill,  standing  watchfully 
at  the  con ;  "  I  will  mind  it  myself." 

The  crash  of  the  breakers,  as  they  writhed  their 
white-crested  heads  around  the  ship's  bows  and  on 
either  side,  was  appalling  to  every  one.  They  were 
right  in  them  now  —  passing  through  them.  The 
rocky  needle  on  the  larboard  hand  slipped  by  and 
drew  astern.  The  wreck  of  the  Maidstone  was  lost 
sight  of  in  the  flooding  waves  and  driving  spray 
of  a  rising  gale.  The  ship  was  roaring  through  the 
seas  at  a  terrific  rate;  the  strain  upon  everything 
was  tremendous ;  a  broken  spar,  a  parted  rope,  meant 
a  lost  ship. 

"  Very  well  dyce,"  cried  the  captain,  casting  a  glance 
aloft  at  the  weather  leech  of  the  topsails  shivering  in 
the  fierce  wind,  the  quivering  masts  and  groaning 
yard-arms,  the  lee  shrouds  hanging  slack,  the  lee 
braces  and  head  bowlines  taut  as  strung  wires,  the 
tacks  and  sheets  and  the  weather  shrouds  as  rigid  as 
iron  bars,  the  new  canvas  like  sheets  of  marble.  The 

ii 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

ship  was  heeled  over  until  the  lee  channels  were 
almost  awash,  the  spray  coming  in,  in  bucketsful,  over 
the  lee  cathead.  She  was  ready  if  ever  she  would  be ; 
their  fate  was  at  the  touch. 

"  Now !  "  shouted  Jones,  in  a  voice  of  thunder 
"  Down  with  the  helm !  Over  with  it !  Hard 
over !  " 

The  old  experienced  seamen  put  the  wheel  over 
spoke  by  spoke,  slowly  at  first,  then  faster,  until  they 
finally  hauled  it  down  hard  and  clung  to  it  with  all 
the  strength  of  their  mighty  arms. 

"  Helm  's-a-lee,  hard-a-lee,"  cried  O'Neill  at  this 
moment. 

"  Rise  tacks  and  sheets,"  roared  the  captain. 

The  ship  shot  up  into  the  wind,  straightened  her 
self  as  its  pressure  was  removed  from  the  sails,  lost 
headway,  the  jibs  swinging  and  tugging  in  the  gale, 
as  she  began  to  swing  to  larboard  away  from  the  reef 
on  the  starboard  side.  She  worked  around  slowly 
until  the  wind  began  to  come  in  over  the  starboard 
bow. 

"  Haul  taut !  "  shouted  the  watching  captain  ;  '^main- 
sail  haul !  " 

The  great  yards,  with  their  vast  expanse  of  slatting, 
roaring,  threshing  canvas,  whirled  rapidly  around  as 
the  nimble  crew  ran  aft  with  the  sheets  and  braces. 
The  Ranger  fell  off  quickly  and  drifted  down  toward 
the  needle,  the  aftersails  aback. 

"  Board  that  main  tack  there !  Man  the  head 
braces;  jump,  men,  lively!  Let  go  and  haul!" 

There  Was  a  frightful  moment,  —  would  she  make 
12 


A   STERN   CHASE   ON   A   LEE   SHORE 

it?  She  stopped —  Ah,  thank  God,  they  gathered 
way  again,  slowly,  then  faster. 

"  Right  the  helm  !  Meet  her  —  so.  Steady  !  Get 
that  main  tack  down  now,  tail  on  to  it,  all  of  you, 
sway  away  !  Get  a  pull  on  the  lee  braces,  Mr.  O'Neill, 
and  haul  the  bowlines.  Ah  !  That 's  well  done." 

They  were  rushing  through  it  again;  the  white 
water  and  the  breakers  were  left  behind.  A  sigh  of 
relief  broke  from  the  reckless  men,  and  even  the  iron 
captain  seemed  satisfied  with  his  achievement  as  he 
walked  aft  to  the  quarter-deck. 

"  Get  a  good  offing,  Mr.  O'Neill,"  said  the  captain, 
"  and  then  heave  to.  First  send  the  hands  aloft  to 
take  in  the  to'gallant  sails,  and  then  you  may  get  a 
boat  ready;  we  must  see  if  there  are  any  poor  crea 
tures  left  on  that  ship  yonder." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  replied  the  lieutenant,  giving  the 
necessary  orders,  when  presently  the  ship,  easier 
under  the  reduced  canvas,  was  hove  to  in  the  beating 
sea. 

"  Shall  I  take  the  weather  whaleboat,  sir?  " 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  captain,  "  I  think  you  would 
better  try  to  board  under  her  lee  if  it  be  possible  to  do 
anything  among  that  wreckage.  I  doubt  if  there  be 
anybody  left  alive  on  her,  but  we  can't  afford  to  risk 
the  possibility,  especially  in  the  case  of  that  woman 
whom  you  found  so  beautiful,"  he  added  with  a 
smile. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  the  lieutenant,  blushing  beneath 
the  bronze  in  spite  of  himself,  as  he  directed  the 
boatswain  to  call  away  the  whaleboat,  which,  manned 

13 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

by  six  stout  oarsmen,  with  himself  at  the  tiller,  was 
soon  cast  into  the  heaving  sea.  Meanwhile  the 
Ranger  filled  away  again  and  beat  to  and  fro  off 
the  coast,  taking  care  to  preserve  the  necessary  offing, 
or  distance  from  shore  to  leeward. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Captor  Captured 

IT  was  a  long  hard  pull,  and  only  the  great  skill 
of  the  officer  prevented  their  capsizing,  before 
the  whaleboat  finally  drew  near  the  Maidstone. 
The  ship  had  hit  the  reef  hard  at  flood-tide,  and  the 
waves  had  driven  her  farther  on.  Every  mast  and 
spar  was  gone,  wrenched  away  by  the  storm  and  the 
waves.  It  was  manifestly  impossible  to  approach 
upon  the  weather  side  without  staving  the  boat,  so 
O'Neill  cautiously  rounded  the  stern  of  the  wreck, 
and  briefly  considered  the  situation. 

He  did  not  dare  bring  the  boat  near  enough  to 
enable  him  to  leap  upon  the  deck  through  some  of 
the  great  gaping  openings  in  the  sides  made  by  the 
tremendous  battering  of  the  massive  spars,  and  he 
finally  concluded  that  the  only  practicable  access 
to  the  Maidstone  was  by  means  of  some  of  the 
gearing  trailing  over  the  side  and  writhing  about 
snake-like  in  the  water.  Intrusting  the  tiller  of  the 
whaleboat  to  old  Price,  the  veteran  gunner,  he  di 
rected  that  it  be  brought  alongside  as  close  as  con 
sistent  with  safety ;  and  at  exactly  the  right  moment, 
as  they  rose  upon  the  crest  of  a  wave,  he  sprang  out 
into  the  water,  and  clutched  desperately  at  a  rope 
hanging  over  the  side  of  the  wreck. 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

The  men  swung  the  boat  away  from  the  ship  in 
stantly,  and  he  found  himself  clinging  to  a  small  rope 
wildly  tossing  about  in  the  tumultuous  sea.  He  was 
dashed  to  and  fro  like  a  cork,  the  waves  repeatedly 
broke  over  his  head,  the  life  was  almost  buffeted  out 
of  him,  but  he  held  on  like  grim  death.  Fortunately, 
the  other  end  of  the  rope  was  fast  inboard. 

With  careful  skill,  and  husbanding  his  strength  as 
much  as  possible,  he  pulled  himself  along  the  rope 
through  the  water  until  he  drew  near  the  side  of  the 
ship.  Then,  though  the  operation  was  hazardous  in 
the  extreme,  as  he  saw  no  other  method,  he  began  to 
pull  himself  up  hand  over  hand  on  the  rope  along 
the  side.  In  his  already  exhausted  state  and  with 
the  added  weight  of  his  wet,  sodden  clothing,  the 
effort  was  almost  beyond  his  strength. 

He  endeavored  by  thrusting  with  his  foot  to  keep 
himself  from  being  beaten  against  the  side  by  the 
waves,  but  without  success,  for  when  he  had  hardly 
reached  the  rail,  an  unusually  large  breaker  struck 
him  fairly  in  the  back  and  dashed  his  head  against  a 
piece  of  jagged  timber,  cutting  a  great  gash  in  his 
forehead.  Blood  filled  his  eyes,  his  head  swam,  a 
sick,  faint  feeling  filled  his  breast,  he  hesitated  and 
nearly  lost  his  grasp  of  the  rope.  The  men  in  the 
tossing  boat  a  little  distance  away  held  their  breath 
in  terrified  apprehension,  but  summoning  all  his 
resolution  to  his  aid,  he  made  a  last  desperate  effort, 
breasted  the  rail,  and  fell  fainting  prone  upon  the 
deck  of  the  ship. 

A  few  moments  in  the  cold  water  which  was  flood- 
16 


THE   CAPTOR   CAPTURED 

ing  over  it  revived  him  somewhat,  and  he  rose 
unsteadily  to  his  feet,  and  looked  about  him  in  be 
wilderment.  The  change  from  the  tossing  boat  to 
the  motionless  rigidity  of  the  vise-held  wreck  was 
startling.  There  was  not  a  sign  of  life  on  the  ship. 
She  was  breaking  up  fast;  rails  were  stove  in,  boats 
were  gone,  three  jagged  stumps  showed  where  the 
masts  had  been,  and  only  the  fact  that  she  had  been 
driven  so  high  on  the  reefs  prevented  her  from 
foundering  at  once.  There  was  a  dead  body  jammed 
under  the  starboard  fife-rail  forward,  but  no  other 
sign  of  humanity.  In  front  of  him  was  a  hatchway, 
giving  entrance  to  a  small  cuddy,  or  cabin,  the  roof 
of  which  rose  a  few  feet  above  the  level  of  the  deck. 

As  he  stood  there,  striving  to  recover  himself,  in  a 
brief  lull  in  the  storm  he  thought  he  heard  a  faint 
voice ;  it  seemed  to  come  from  beneath  him.  He  at 
once  turned,  and  with  uncertain  steps  descended  the 
hatchway.  Reaching  the  deck  below,  he  stood  in 
the  way  a  moment,  brushing  the  blood  from  his  eyes. 
As  he  gradually  made  out  the  details  of  the  cabin, 
dimly  illuminated  by  a  skylight  above,  he  saw  a 
woman  on  her  knees  praying;  she  had  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  and  did  not  see  him  until  he 
spoke  to  apprise  her  of  his  presence. 

"  Madam,"  he  began  thickly. 

The  woman  raised  her  head  with  startled  quickness, 
and  gave  him  one  terrified  glance.  The  glass  had 
told  him  truly,  —  she  was  beautiful,  and  young  as 
well,  scarcely  more  than  a  girl  apparently;  even  the 
dim  gray  light  could  not  hide  those  things.  As  for 
2  17 


him,  he  was  an  awful-looking  spectacle:  wet,  hat- 
less,  his  clothing  torn,  a  great  red  wound  in  his  fore 
head  intensifying  his  pallor.  He  had  a  heavy  pistol 
in  his  belt  and  a  cutlass  swinging  at  his  side. 

She  stared  at  him  in  frightened  silence  and  finally 
rose  to  her  feet  deathly  pale  and  apparently  ap 
palled  ;  he  saw  that  she  was  a  little  above  the  medium 
height.  At  the  same  moment,  from  an  obscure  cor 
ner,  there  rang  out  shriek  after  shriek,  and  another 
woman  rushed  forward,  threw  herself  on  the  deck  at 
his  feet  and  fairly  grovelled  before  him. 

"  Oh,  sir,  for  God's  sake,  sir,"  she  cried  frantically, 
"  good  mister  pirate,  don't  hang  us,  sir !  We  never 
hurt  nobody.  Oh,  sir,  take  us  away,  we'll  do  any 
thing,  we  — 

"  Silence,  you  coward  !  "  commanded  the  other 
woman,  imperiously.  "  Get  up  !  Prayers  are  of  no 
avail  with  such  as  —  " 

"  Nor  are  they  necessary,  madam,"  replied 
O'Neill;  "we  are  not  pirates,  and  I  am  come  to 
save  you  and  shall  do  it.  Will  you  please  come  on 
deck?" 

"  I  had  rather  gone  down  on  the  ship,"  said  the 
girl,  defiantly,  evidently  disbelieving  him;  "but  you 
are  here,  and  you  are  master.  Give  your  orders, 
sir." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  the  lieutenant,  calmly  accept 
ing  the  situation;  "you  will  go  up  on  deck  at  once." 
The  girl  motioned  him  forward. 

"  After  you,  madam,"  he  said,  bowing  courteously, 
and  she  stepped  haughtily  up  the  companion-way, 

18 


THE   CAPTOR   CAPTURED 

followed  next  by  her  shivering,  shrinking,  terrified 
maid,  and  lastly  by  O'Neill. 

"  Are  there  any  others  left  alive  on  the  ship,  think 
you,  madam?"  he  asked. 

"  No  one,"  answered  the  girl ;  "  many  were  thrown 
overboard  or  killed  when  we  struck  on  these  rocks 
here,  and  the  rest  abandoned  us  —  the  cowards," 
was  the  reply. 

"  Do  you  wait  here  a  moment,  while  I  take  a  look 
forward  to  assure  myself,"  said  O'Neill,  stepping 
rapidly  across  the  raffle  of  rope  about  the  decks,  and 
making  a  hasty  inspection  to  make  sure  that  no  un 
fortunate  was  left.  Quickly  satisfying  himself  that 
they  were  alone,  he  returned  to  the  quarter-deck 
where  the  two  women  stood.  He  looked  at  them  in 
some  perplexity.  It  would  be  a  matter  of  great  diffi 
culty  to  get  them  back  in  the  boat,  but  he  promptly 
determined  upon  his  course  of  action;  they  would 
not  like  it,  but  that  would  be  no  matter. 

Signing  to  the  coxswain,  old  Price,  the  boat  which 
had  been  riding  to  a  long  rope  from  the  ship  was 
skilfully  brought  alongside  again  as  near  as  was  safe. 
One  end  of  a  long  piece  of  loose  gear  was  thrown 
over  to  the  boat,  where  it  was  made  fast.  A  bight  of 
the  rope,  properly  stoppered  to  prevent  undue  con 
striction,  was  passed  around  the  waist  of  the  maid, 
at  which  all  her  terrors  were  resumed. 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  sir,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  as 
you  have  a  mother  or  wife,  do  not  hang  us  here ! 
If  we  must  die,  let  us  drown  on  the  ship  like  good 
Christian  people.  Oh,  please,  good  mister  pirate  —  " 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

But  O'Neill  was  in  no  mood  to  pay  attention  to 
such  trifling,  and  he  summarily  fastened  the  bight 
around  her  waist,  and  lifting  her  upon  the  rail,  bade 
her  jump.  She  clung  to  him  with  the  tenacity  of 
despair,  crying  and  shrieking  in  the  most  frantic 
manner,  until  finally  her  overwrought  nerves  gave 
way,  and  she  fainted.  That  was  just  what  he  wanted. 
Singing  out  to  old  Price  to  haul  in  on  the  line, 
and  having  taken  a  turn  around  a  belaying  pin  with 
his  end  of  it,  he  promptly  threw  the  girl  into  the  water. 
Of  course  she  was  dragged  under  at  once,  but  in  a 
moment  was  lifted  safely  into  the  whaleboat,  where  she 
was  shortly  revived  from  unconsciousness  by  the 
ducking  she  had  received. 

"  Now,  madam,  you  see  you  need  fear  nothing," 
said  O'Neill,  peremptorily,  to  the  other  woman.  "  I 
trust  I  shall  not  be  compelled  to  throw  you  in,  too?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,"  she  replied  trembling  violently, 
but  striving  to  preserve  her  self-control;  "  I  presume 
you  reserve  me  for  a  worse  fate." 

The  young  lieutenant  started  violently  at  the  in 
sult,  and  his  face  cloud*ed  darkly  at  her  suspicion. 

"I — no  matter,  I  came  to  save  you,"  he  said, 
as  he  stepped  toward  her  to  assist  her  to  make  the 
leap. 

"  Please  do  not  touch  me,"  she  answered  disdain 
fully;  "I  am  no  fainting  fool.  Give  me,  the  rope. 
What  is  it  you  wish  me  to  do?  " 

"  Pass  it  around  your  waist.  Allow  me.  Now 
stand  there,  madam,  and  when  I  say  the  word,  jump  !  " 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  stepping  upon  the  rail  re- 
20 


THE   CAPTOR   CAPTURED 

signedly,  where  perforce  he  was  compelled  to  hold 
her  to  keep  her  from  falling. 

How  glorious  and  splendid  she  looked,  he  thought, 
with  her  unbound  hair  floating  like  golden  sunlight 
in  the  wind  against  the  background  of  the  gray  day, 
while  her  sea-blue  eyes  looked  boldly  over  the  black 
water  from  her  proud,  white,  handsome  face. 

"Now!  "  he  said,  as  the  boat  rose  toward  them. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  she  leaped  into  the 
air,  and  after  a  swift  passage  through  the  water  she 
was  hauled  into  the  boat  by  the  rough  but  kindly 
hands  of  the  old  sailor.  Making  the  end  of  the  rope 
fast  around  his  own  waist,  O'Neill,  watching  his  op 
portunity,  sprang  after ;  but  he  seemed  fated  for  mis 
fortune  that  day,  for  a  bit  of  timber  torn  that  moment 
from  the  wreck  struck  him  in  the  head  just  as  he 
touched  the  water,  and  it  was  a  fainting,  senseless 
man  Price  hauled  into  the  boat.  The  old  seaman 
laid  his  officer  down  in  the  stern-sheets  where  the 
young  girl  was  sitting  with  her  maid  crouching  at 
her  feet.  Necessarily  he  lay  in  a  constrained  posi 
tion,  —  there  was  nothing  to  support  his  head  but  a 
boat-stretcher. 

She  gazed  upon  his  pallid  face  with  its  disfiguring 
wounds ;  he  was  a  murderous  pirate,  no  doubt,  and 
deserved  it  all,  still  he  had  saved  her  life ;  the  Maid- 
stone  was  breaking  up ;  he  was  so  handsome  too,  and 
he  looked  like  a  gentleman.  She  was  a  woman, 
well — then  the  womanly  instincts  of  the  girl  asserted 
themselves,  and  she  finally  moved  her  position  and 
lifted  the  head  of  the  unconscious  sailor  to  her  knee. 

21 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

Taking  a  handkerchief  from  her  neck,  she  dipped  it 
in  the  salt  water  and  bathed  his  head  and  then 
poured  between  his  lips  a  few  drops  from  the  flask  of 
rum  which  Price  handed  her,  after  the  old  man  had 
insisted  that  she  take  a  draught  of  the  fiery  liquid 
herself. 

Under  these  pleasant  ministrations  O'Neill  opened 
his  eyes  for  a  moment,  gazed  up  into  her  face  with  a 
smiling  glance,  and  closing  his  eyes  immediately,  lest 
she  should  release  him,  he  lay  quite  still  while  the 
men  pulled  away  toward  the  Ranger,  and  in  that  man 
ner  they  reached  her  side.  His  heart  was  beating 
wildly;  that  look  had  been  enough.  She  was  his 
prisoner  — but  her  captor  was  captured  ! 


22 


CHAPTER   III 

A  Gentle  Pirate 

EAGER  eyes  on  the  ship  had  noted  the  every 
movement  of  the  whaleboat  as  she  drew  near 
the  Ranger.  Old  Price  saw  that  a  whip  and  a  boat 
swain's  chair  had  been  rigged  on  the  main-yard- 
arm  to  swing  his  passengers  on  board.  The  sight 
of  the  dangling  rope  awakened  a  fresh  fit  of  appre 
hension  on  the  part  of  the  timorous  maid,  and  it  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  the  amused  seaman  per 
suaded  her  that  she  was  not  to  be  hanged  outright. 
Entirely  unconvinced,  but  resigning  herself  to  her 
fate,  she  finally  sat  down  on  the  small  board  and 
was  swung  to  the  gangway. 

Her  mistress  gently  laid  the  head  of  the  prostrate 
officer  against  one  of  the  thwarts,  and,  leaving  the 
handkerchief  as  a  rest  for  it,  followed  the  maid. 
Then  the  old  coxswain  secured  the  lieutenant  to 
the  chair,  and  when  he  had  reached  the  deck,  where 
he  opened  his  eyes  and  recovered  consciousness 
with  incredible  promptness,  the  boat  was  dropped 
astern,  the  falls  hooked  on,  and  she  was  smartly 
run  up  to  her  place  at  the  davits,  and  the  Ranger 
filled  away.  O'Neill  was  at  once  assisted  below  to 
his  cabin,  and  his  wounds,  which  were  not  serious, 
were  attended  to  by  the  surgeon. 

23 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

When  the  young  woman  joined  her  maid  on  the 
deck,  her  glance  comprehended  a  curious  picture. 
In  front  of  her,  hat  in  hand,  bowing  low  before  her, 
stood  a  small,  dapper,  swarthy,  black-avised,  black- 
haired  man,  in  the  blue  uniform  of  a  naval  officer. 
He  had  the  face  of  a  scholar  and  a  student,  with  the 
bold,  brilliant,  black  eyes  of  a  fighter.  Surround 
ing  him  were  other  officers  and  several  young  boys 
similarly  dressed.  Scattered  about  in  various  parts 
of  the  ship,  as  their  occupation  or  station  permitted, 
were  a  number  of  rude,  fierce,  desperate-looking 
men,  nondescript  in  apparel.  None  of  the  navies 
of  the  world  at  that  date,  except  in  rare  instances, 
uniformed  its  men.  On  either  side  of  the  deck 
black  guns  protruded  through  the  ports,  and  here 
and  there  a  marine,  carrying  a  musket  and  equipped 
in  uniform  of  white  and  green,  stood  or  paced  a 
solitary  watch. 

"  I  bid  you  welcome  to  my  ship,  madam ;  so  fair 
a  face  on  a  war-vessel  is  as  grateful  a  sight  as  the 
sun  after  a  squall,"  said  the  officer,  elaborately 
bowing. 

"Sir,"  said  the  young  woman,  trembling  slightly, 
"I  am  a  person  of  some  consideration  at  home. 
My  guardian  will  cheerfully  pay  you  any  ransom  if 
you  spare  me.  I  am  a  woman  and  alone.  I  beg 
you,  sir,  to  use  me  kindly;"  she  clasped  her  hands 
in  beseeching  entreaty,  her  beautiful  eyes  filling 
with  tears. 

At  this  signal  the  fears  of  the  maid  broke  out 
afresh,  and  she  plumped  down  on  her  knees  and 

24 


A   GENTLE   PIRATE 

grasped  the  captain  around  the  legs,  bawling  vo 
ciferously,  and  adding  a  touch  of  comedy  to  the 
scene. 

"Oh,  sir,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  sir,  don't  make 
us  walk  the  plank ! "  It  would  seem  that  the  maid 
had  been  reading  romances. 

The  seamen  near  enough  to  hear  and  see  grinned 
largely  at  this  exhibition,  and  the  captain,  with  a 
deep  flush  and  a  black  frown  on  his  face,  struggled 
to  release  himself. 

"  Silence,  woman ! "  he  cried  fiercely,  at  last. 
"  Get  up  from  your  knees,  or,  by  Heaven,  I  will 
have  you  thrown  overboard ;  and  you,  madam,  for 
what  do  you  take  me  ? " 

"Are  you  not  a> — •  a  pirate,  sir?"  she  answered, 
hesitating.  "  They  told  me  on  the  ship  that  you  —  " 

"No  pirate  am  I,"  interrupted  the  man,  proudly, 
laying  his  hand  on  his  sword.  "I  am  an  officer, 
and,  with  these  gentlemen,  am  in  the  service  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  the  new  Republic — this 
is  the  American  Continental  ship  Ranger.  You 
are  as  safe  with  us  as  you  would  be  in  your  own 
parlor  at  home.  Safer,  in  fact ;  there  you  would  be 
surrounded  by  servants;  here  are  men  who  would 
die  to  prevent  harm  coming  to  you  —  Is  it  not  so, 
gentlemen? " 

A  deep  chorus  of  "Ay,  ay's"  rang  through  the 
air.  The  captain  continued  with  sudden  heat,  — 

"'Fore  God,  madam,  I  don't  understand  how  you 
could  insult  me  with  an  offer  of  money ! " 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  visibly  relieved,  "they 
25 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

told  me  that  you  were  a  pirate,  and  would  murder 
us  all.  Are  you  not  — •  " 

"  Captain  John  Paul  Jones,  at  your  service, 
madam,"  interrupted  the  little  officer,  with  another 
bow,  thrusting  his  hand  in  his  bosom. 

"Yes,"  said  the  young  woman;  "they  said  it 
would  be  you.  Why,  every  news-letter  in  the  land 
describes  you  as  —  as  —  " 

"Pirate,  madam,  say  it;  you  have  not  hesitated 
to  speak  the  word  heretofore.  A  rebel  —  a  traitor 

—  a  pirate,"  he  said,  throwing  up  his  head  proudly, 

—  "  't  is  a  penalty  which  one  pays  for  fighting  for 
freedom;  but  you,  at  least,   shall  be  able  to  speak 
unequivocally  as  to  our  character,  for  I  pledge  you 
my  word  you  shall  take  no  harm  from  us,  though  I 
doubt  not  my  young  gentlemen  here  will  be  raked 
fore  and  aft  by  the  batteries  of  your  bright  eyes. 
Now  will  you  vouchsafe  me  your  name  and  some  of 
your  story,  that  I  may  know  with  whom  I  have  to 
do?" 

"My  name  is  Howard,  sir,  — Elizabeth  Howard," 
replied  the  girl,  brightening  as  her  fears  diminished. 
"I  am  the  ward  of  Admiral  Lord  Westbrooke,  the 
governor  of  Scarborough  Castle.  I  have  no  father 
nor  mother." 

"Another  claim  upon  our  consideration,  ma'am." 

"  Sir,  I  thank  you.  I  was  going  to  visit  friends 
in  Liverpool  when  that  unfortunate  ship  there  was 
wrecked.  Oh,  what  will  become  of  me  now?"  she 
exclaimed,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears  again. 

"  Liverpool  lies  in  our  way,  Mistress  Howard,  and 
26 


A   GENTLE   PIRATE 

't  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  land  you  upon  some 
convenient  point  on  the  coast  in  a  few  days  if  the 
wind  hold,  and  no  mischance  arise;  and  now  may  I 
present  my  officers  to  you,  since  we  are  to  be  fellow- 
passengers  all." 

Upon  receiving  the  desired  permission  from  the 
grateful  girl,  in  whose  pale  cheek  the  color  began  to 
come  again,  the  captain,  who  was  a  great  stickler  for 
etiquette,  brought  forward  the  little  group  of  officers 
and  introduced  them  one  by  one.  There  was  much 
bowing  and  courtesying  on  the  quarter-deck,  which 
even  the  seamen  seemed  to  enjoy. 

"This  is  all,  I  believe,"  said  the  captain,  having 
stopped  with  the  smallest  midshipman,  who  an 
nounced  himself  in  his  boyish  treble,  in  comical  imi 
tation  of  his  elders,  as,  "vastly  honored,  madam." 

"The  gentleman  who  brought  me  here?"  ques 
tioned  the  girl,  blushing  faintly;  "I  trust  he  is  not 
seriously  injured  ? " 

"Ah!"  replied  Jones,  "my  first  lieutenant,  Mr. 
Barry  O'Neill,  a  volunteer  with  us,  and  an  officer  in 
the  service  of  his  most  Christian  Majesty,  my 
friend,  the  King  of  France."  On  the  ship  O'Neill 
had  elected  to  sink  his  marquisate. 

"He  is  not  much  hurt,  Mistress  Howard,  only 
battered  about  a  bit  and  pulled  down  by  the  nervous 
shock  and  efforts  he  underwent  —  why,  here  he  is 
now!  Did  I  not  warn  you,  sir,  to  stay  below?" 
said  the  doctor,  shaking  his  finger,  as  O'Neill,  pale 
and  languid,  with  his  head  bound  up,  came  slowly 
up  the  companion-way. 

27 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

"Oh,  I  am  all  right,  doctor,"  said  the  lieutenant, 
rather  weakly,  but  smiling  with  the  audacity  and 
gallantry  of  his  race  as  he  spied  the  girl.  "Who 
would  stay  below  with  divinity  on  the  deck  ?  The 
thought  of  the  presence  of  this  lady  above  him 
would  lift  a  crusader  from  his  tombstone." 

"Allow  me  to  present  you  in  due  form  to  Mis 
tress  Howard,  Mr.  O'Neill,"  said  the  captain,  some 
what  severely,  evidently  very  desirous  of  observing 
the  proprieties  now. 

"Sir,  "said  the  young  girl,  looking  gratefully  at 
the  Irishman  out  of  her  violet  eyes,  "  I  have  to 
thank  you  for  a  most  gallant  rescue,  made  doubly 
hard  by  my  perversity  and  foolish  apprehension, 
which  this  gentleman,"  bowing  to  the  flattered 
captain,  "has  most  kindly  removed." 

"'Twas  a  pleasure  to  serve  you,  madam.  May  I 
continue  to  enjoy  it.  We  would  sink  another  ship 
for  such  another  chance,"  said  the  Irishman,  lightly. 

"  Now  I  propose  to  give  up  one  of  my  cabins  to 
Mistress  Howard  and  her  maid,"  said  the  captain; 
"and  I  presume  that  she  will  need  to  rest  after  the 
exciting  incidents  of  the  day  until  supper  is  served. 
If  you  are  able,  Mr.  O'Neill,  I  should  like  to  have 
you  join  us  there,  with  Mistress  Howard's  permis 
sion,  of  course,  since  the  ship  is  hers."  He  smiled 
toward  her,  and  when  he  smiled  he  was  irresistible. 

"I  am  honored,  sir,"  replied  the  girl,  graciously. 
"And  I  thank  you.  Captain,  I  shall  be  delighted," 
continued  the  young  lady,  laying  her  hand  in  his 
own,  as  he  led  her  aft  to  the  cabin  door  in  the  break 

28 


A   GENTLE   PIRATE 

of  the  poop.  Before  she  entered,  she  turned  and 
made  a  graceful  courtesy;  her  glance  swept  toward 
the  young  lieutenant—  O'Neill  from  that  moment 
was  no  longer  a  captive  —  he  was  a  slave. 

"Gentlemen,  good-afternoon,"  she  said,  compre 
hending  them  in  one  brilliant  look,  and  smiling 
again  —  it  was  enough ;  that  glance  had  given  O'Neill 
any  number  of  rivals. 


29 


CHAPTER  IV 

Enter  Major  Coventry 

THREE  days  later  the  Ranger,  under  all  plain 
sail,  in  a  gentle  breeze,  was  slowly  plough 
ing  along  through  the  Irish  Sea,  off  the  English 
coast,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Mersey.  The  whale- 
boat,  manned  by  six  of  the  smartest  seamen,  armed 
with  cutlass  and  pistol,  and  dressed  in  their  best 
clothes,  old  Price  being  coxswain  again,  was  just 
being  made  ready.  The  ship  was  presently  hove  to, 
and  a  side  ladder  was  dropped  overboard  at  the  gang 
way  where  Miss  Elizabeth  Howard  and  her  maid 
were  standing  waiting  for  the  lowering  of  the  whale- 
boat,  and  around  which  the  officers  of  the  deck 
speedily  congregated. 

They  were  a  sorrowful  lot  of  men,  these  impres 
sionable  sailors,  for  O'Neill  was  not  alone  in  his 
captivity.  True  to  his  promise,  Captain  Jones  had 
shifted  his  course,  and  was  about  to  land  his  fair 
passenger.  He  had  chosen  to  put  her  ashore  upon  a 
rocky  beach  four  or  five  miles  away  from  a  fort  at 
Birkenhead,  which  guarded  the  mouth  of  the  river 
which  gave  entrance  to  the  harbor,  not  caring  to 
venture  his  ship  in  any  closer  proximity  to  the  forti 
fications  and  the  war-vessels  probably  in  the  river. 

30 


ENTER   MAJOR   COVENTRY 

It  was  a  risky  performance  at  best,  but  he  trusted  to 
the  known  speed  of  the  Ranger  and  his  own  sea 
manship  to  effect  his  escape  in  case  the  ship  should 
be  discovered  and  pursued  in  force. 

Once  on  shore,  it  would  not  be  a  difficult  matter 
for  the  lady  and  her  maid  to  procure  a  conveyance  to 
take  them  to  the  city  a  little  farther  inland.  The 
melancholy  duty  of  landing  the  two  women,  by 
special  request,  had  been  allotted  to  the  first  lieu 
tenant,  much  to  the  disgust  of  the  various  midship 
men  who  conceived  that  the  matter  of  taking  charge 
of  boats  appertained  more  properly  to  one  of  their 
number. 

The  farewells  were  soon  spoken  by  the  grateful 
girl  to  the  officers,  who  had  done  their  very  best  in 
making  the  days  pass  pleasantly  and  lightening  the 
tedium  of  the  voyage,  and  to  the  captain,  who  had 
been  kindness  and  consideration  itself.  The  young 
lieutenant,  still  somewhat  pale  from  his  adventure, 
had  clothed  himself  in  a  handsome  full-dress  uni 
form,  and,  with  a  splendidly  jewelled  sword  swing 
ing  by  his  side,  came  on  deck  from  his  cabin,  the 
envy  of  all  the  others. 

The  ship  had  been  hove  to,  the  accommodation 
ladder  shipped,  the  whaleboat  was  lying  at  the 
gangway  now,  and  the  three  passengers  at  once  took 
their  places  in  the  stern. 

"See  Miss  Howard  safely  landed,  Mr.  O'Neill," 
said  the  solicitous  captain,  leaning  over  the  rail, 
"and  assure  yourself,  as  far  as  possible,  of  her 
ability  to  reach  the  town  without  harm,  and  then 

31 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

return  at  once;  in  any  event,  do  not  leave  the  beach. 
We  will  watch  you,  sir." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  answered  O'Neill.  "Shove  off  — 
out  oars  —  give  way ! "  and  the  little  boat  at  once  shot 
away  from  the  side,  and,  under  the  impetus  given 
by  the  watchful  men,  dashed  toward  the  not  distant 
shore. 

Miss  Howard  should  have  been  radiantly  happy 
at  leaving  the  Ranger,  and  in  her  proximity  to 
Liverpool,  where  she  was  about  to  meet  not  only 
friends  and  family  connections,  but  one  who  was 
destined  to  be  something  more.  This  person  was 
Major  Edward  Coventry,  a  gallant  and  distinguished 
young  officer,  the  son  and  heir  of  her  guardian,  Lord 
Westbrooke,  and  to  whom  for  many  years  —  from 
infancy,  in  fact  —  she  had  been  betrothed.  But  an 
unaccountable  tinge  of  sadness  hovered  over  her 
lovely  face,  though  she  strove  to  conceal  it  under 
an  affectation  of  lightness  and  gayety. 

As  for  O'Neill,  he  made  no  effort  whatever  to  hide 
his  misery.  The  impressionable  young  Irishman 
had  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  Elizabeth  Howard. 
He  had  fallen  in  love  a  thousand  times  before,  but 
not  in  this  way ;  and  the  heart  which  had  withstood 
the  successful  assaults  of  the  brilliant  beauties  of 
the  gay  court  of  France  had  literally  succumbed  at 
the  first  sight  of  this  beautiful  English  girl  whom 
benignant  fortune  had  thrown  across  his  path. 

She,  and  she  only,  was  his  fate,  then  and  there 
after.  A  new  and  hitherto  unknown  feeling  had 
been  excited  in  his  heart  at  the  sight  of  her.  In 

32 


ENTER   MAJOR   COVENTRY 

that  hour  in  the  boat  when  he  lay  with  his  head 
upon  her  knee,  when  he  had  looked  up  at  her, 
heaven  had  opened  before  his  gaze,  and  to  his 
disordered  fancy  she  had  seemed  an  angel.  Each 
passing  moment  discovered  in  her  a  new  charm, 
and  he  loved  her  with  the  impetuosity  of  a  boy, 
the  doting  passion  of  an  old  man,  and  the  consecra 
tion  of  a  devotee. 

With  the  daring  of  his  race,  he  had  not  hesitated 
to  acquaint  the  girl  with  his  passion,  either,  though 
it  was  stale  news  to  her;  there  is  nothing  a  woman 
discovers  more  quickly  and  more  certainly  than  the 
feelings  of  a  man  who  loves  her.  That  she  had 
laughed  at  his  ardor  had  not  in  the  least  deterred 
him  from  persisting  in  his  attentions,  which  she 
had  not  found  unwelcome,  for  he  thoroughly  under 
stood  the  value  of  determined  pursuit.  She  had 
told  him  that  they  were  like  two  ships  sailing  the 
great  sea,  whose  paths  happened  to  cross  for  a 
moment.  They  meet,  nod  to  each  other,  and  pass 
on;  the  deep  swallows  them  up,  and  they  see  each 
other  no  more  forever. 

He  had  vowed  and  protested  that  it  would  not  be 
so;  that  England  was  a  little  country  and  Admiral 
Westbrooke  a  great  man ;  that  she  could  not  be  any 
where  without  attracting  the  attention  of  the  world, 
—  she  could  by  no  means  hide  her  light;  that  he 
would  withdraw  from  the  American  service,  which 
he  could  honorably  do  at  the  expiration  of  the 
present  cruise,  and  search  the  whole  island  until  he 
found  her,  —  all  of  which  was  pleasant  for  her  to 
3  33 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

hear,  of  course,  though  it  elicited  no  more  favorable 
reply.  She  was  attracted  to  the  young  man :  his 
handsome  person,  his  cultured  mind,  his  charming 
manners  were  such  that  no  one  —  no  woman,  that 
is  —  could  be  indifferent  to  them;  but  she  did  not 
love  him,  at  least  not  yet. 

Elizabeth  Howard  was  a  woman  to  make  a  man 
fall  desperately  in  love  with  her,  and  many  men 
had  done  so.  She  was  tall  and  graceful,  golden- 
haired,  blue-eyed,  and  of  noble  presence.  She  was 
proud,  she  was  wise,  she  was  witty,  she  was  tender, 
she  was  contemplative,  she  was  gay,  she  was  sad, 
she  was  joyous,  in  different  moods.  Days,  years 
even,  could  not  exhaust  the  charms  of  her  infinite 
variety,  though  far  down  beneath  the  surface  of 
her  nature  were  the  quiet  deeps  of  constancy  and 
devotion,  — what  plummet  could  sound  them,  who 
should  discover  them  ?  There  was  about  her  that 
indefinable  air  of  one  born  for  homage  and  command 
which  speaks  of  generations  to  whom  have  been  ac 
corded  honor  and  place  unquestioned. 

It  was  not  a  long  row  to  the  land;  and  as  they 
approached  the  rugged  coast,  the  young  lieutenant 
eagerly  scanned  the  shore  for  a  landing-place. 
Steering  around  a  little  promontory  which  hid  them 
from  the  Ranger,  he  discovered  a  stretch  of  sandy 
beach  under  its  lee,  and  the  boat  was  sent  in  its 
direction  until  the  keel  grated  on  the  soft  sand.  It 
was  a  lonely  spot,  a  little  stretch  of  sand  ending 
inland,  and  on  one  side  in  precipitous  rocks  over 
which  a  wandering  pathway  straggled  unevenly  to 

34 


ENTER    MAJOR   COVENTRY 

the  heights  above.  The  other  end  of  the  beach 
gave  entrance,  through  a  little  opening,  or  pass  in 
the  rocks,  upon  a  country  road  which  wandered 
about  inland,  losing  itself  under  some  trees  a  mile 
or  so  away. 

On  the  rocky  promontory  back  of,  and  at  one  end 
of  the  beach,  there  was  a  small  lighthouse;  and 
several  miles  from  the  beach  in  the  other  direction, 
at  the  end  of  the  road  probably,  was  a  castle  or  fort, 
the  flag  floating  lazily  from  the  staff  indicating  that 
it  was  garrisoned.  Springing  lightly  from  the  boat, 
O'Neill  stepped  recklessly  into  the  water  alongside. 
Miss  Howard  rose  to  her  feet  and  looked  anxiously 
about  her. 

"Allow  me,"  said  O'Neill;  and  then,  without 
waiting  for  permission,  he  lifted  her  gently  in  his 
arms  and  carried  her  to  the  shore.  "Would  that  all 
the  earth  were  water,  and  that  I  might  carry  you 
forever,"  he  said,  as  he  put  her  down  upon  the 
sand. 

"You  would  not  like  heaven,  then?"  she  replied, 
jesting. 

"I  find  my  present  experience  of  it  delightful, 
madam ;  but  why  do  you  say  that  ? "  he  asked 
anxiously. 

"  Because  there,  we  are  told,  there  will  be  no  more 
sea ! "  she  answered  with  well-simulated  gayety. 

"  'T  is  a  poor  place  for  a  sailor,  then,"  he  replied 
gravely,  in  no  mood  for  badinage,  "  and  I  fear  few 
of  them  will  get  there." 

Price,  who  had  followed  his  officer's  example  with 
35 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

the  maid,  now  stepped  up  to  him  for  his  orders, 
necessarily  interrupting  the  conversation. 

"Price,"  he  said  to  that  intrepid  old  sailor,  "you 
may  go  back  to  the  boat  and  shove  off,  and  keep  her 
under  the  lee  of  that  little  point  until  I  call  you. 
Keep  a  sharp  lookout,  too. " 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  the  old  sailor,  turning  to  ful 
fil  the  command. 

"  Now  I  suppose  the  time  has  come  for  me  to  say 
good-bye  to  Lieutenant  O'Neill,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Oh,  not  yet,  Miss  Howard ;  I  cannot  leave  you 
here  alone  until  I  know  that  you  are  safe." 

"  But  your  duty,  sir  ?  " 

"A  gentleman's,  a  sailor's,  first  duty  is  always 
toward  a  helpless  woman,  especially  if  she  is  —  " 

"His  prisoner,  you  would  say,  I  suppose?"  she 
said,  interrupting  hastily.  That  was  not  at  all 
what  he  had  intended  to  say,  but  he  let  it  pass. 

"You  know  who  is  prisoner,  now  and  forever, 
Miss  Howard." 

"If  you  refer  to  Lieutenant  O'Neill,  I  will  release 
him  now  and  forever  as  well,  at  once,  sir,"  she  said 
archly. 

"You  cannot." 

"As  you  will,  sir,"  she  replied;  "but  as  I  happen 
to  see  several  horsemen  coming  down  the  road 
yonder,  I  imagine  you  will  not  be  detained  from 
your  ship  a  very  long  time.  Let  us  go  forward  to 
meet  them ;  perhaps  they  can  give  us  some  infor 
mation." 

The  horsemen,  evidently  an  officer  and  two  order- 
36 


ENTER   MAJOR   COVENTRY 

lies  who  were  galloping  toward  the  beach,  at  this 
moment  noticed  the  boat  party  and  probably  the 
Ranger  itself.  They  reined  in  their  horses  at  once, 
and  the  officer  apparently  gave  some  directions  to 
one  of  the  others,  for  he  saluted,  turned  his  horse 
about  in  the  road,  and  galloped  rapidly  back  in  the 
direction  of  the  castle.  The  officer  then  trotted 
hastily  forward,  followed  by  the  remaining  man, 
and  looking  intently  ahead  of  him  until  he  reached 
the  vicinity  of  the  little  group,  he  dismounted,  and 
handing  the  bridle  to  the  soldier,  bade  him  wait 
where  he  was.  He  came  forward  fearlessly,  with 
one  hand  on  his  sword,  the  other  holding  a  pistol 
which  he  had  taken  from  the  holster.  He  was  a 
young  and  handsome  man  in  a  new  and  brilliant 
scarlet  uniform. 


37 


CHAPTER   V 

Swords  arc  Crossed  on  tJie  Sand 

LADY  ELIZABETH,  you  here?  "  he  exclaimed, 
stopping  short  in  great  surprise,  when  he  was 
near  enough  to  recognize  them.  "  What  is  the  mean 
ing  of  this?"  He  stood  a  moment  as  if  petrified,  and 
then  came  nearer.  "Who  is  this  person?"  he  de 
manded  imperiously.  Elizabeth  started  violently. 

"  Major  Coventry !  Edward  !  "  she  cried. 

"Are  you  a  'Lady/  madam?"  said  O'Neill,  in 
equal  surprise,  addressing  the  astonished  girl  and 
paying  no  attention  to  the  officer. 

"  For  what  else  do  you  take  her,  sir?  "  interrupted 
the  officer,  bristling  with  indignation. 

"  Faith,  sir,  I  would  take  her  '  for  better  or  worse/ 
an  I  could,"  replied  the  Irishman,  smiling. 

"  Unfortunately  for  you,  that  is  a  privilege  I 
propose  to  exercise  myself,"  said  the  Englishman, 
sternly. 

"The  world  will  doubtless  share  my  regret,  sir," 
said  the  Irishman,  audaciously,  a  bitter  pang  in  his 
breast  at  this  unlocked  for  news. 

"  Now  I  wish  to  know. who  you  are  and  how  you 
come  here  and  what  you  are  doing,  —  an  explana 
tion,  sir !  "  asked  the  officer. 

38 


SWORDS   ARE   CROSSED    ON   THE   SAND 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  give  explanations  save  to 
those  who  have  the  right  to  demand  them,"  replied 
O'Neill. 

"  I  have  two  rights,  sir." 

"They  are?" 

"  First,  I  am  betrothed  to  this  young  lady,"  said 
the  officer.  "  Second,  this,"  laying  his  hand  upon 
his  sword. 

"  Either  of  these  may  be  sufficient  from  your  point 
of  view,  neither  of  them  from  mine.  As  to  the  first,  I 
refer  you  to  the  young  lady  herself:  I  will  have  it 
from  her  own  lips,  or  not  at  all ;  as  to  the  second, 
you  will  see  I  have  a  similar  right  of  my  own." 

"  Will  you,  Lady  Elizabeth,"  said  the  young  officer, 
addressing  her  formally,  "  have  the  goodness  to  in 
form  me  how  you  came  here  and  who  this  person  is, 
or  shall  I  force  the  knowledge  from  him  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish  him  to  have  the  information,  Miss 
Howard,  you  would,  I  think,  better  give  it  him. 
Otherwise  I  do  not  see  how  he  is  to  get  it,"  said 
O'Neill,  grimly,  his  dark  face  flushing  with  anger. 

"  This  gentleman,"  said  the  girl,  faintly,  pointing  to 
the  officer,  "  is  Major  Edward  Coventry,  the  son  of 
my  guardian,  Admiral  Westbrooke." 

"  And  your  betrothed,  Elizabeth ;  you  forget  that," 
added  Coventry. 

"  I  almost  wish  I  could,"  she  replied  sharply, 
gathering  courage.  "  You  remind  me  of  it  too 
constantly  for  it  to  be  pleasant,  and  at  no  time  so 
inopportunely  as  at  the  present." 

The  Englishman,  in  great  astonishment  and  per- 
39 


THE    GRIP   OF    HONOR 

turbation,  opened   his   mouth  to   speak,  but   he  was 
interrupted  by  the  quicker  Irishman. 

"  Why  so,  Mistress  Howard?  " 

"  Lady  Elizabeth,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  Coventry. 

"  Lady  Elizabeth,  then.  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  the 
reminder,"  answered  O'Neill,  suavely.  "  Your  friends 
on  the  Ranger  are  all  interested  in  your  welfare,  and 
I  am  sure  they  are  glad  in  my  person  to  meet  with 
and  congratulate  the  fortunate  gentleman  who  aspires 
to  your  hand."  He  smiled  bitterly  at  her  as  he  spoke. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  or  not,  Lady  Elizabeth,  who  this 
person  is  and  how  you  came  here?"  said  Coventry, 
impatiently,  with  mounting  choler  at  all  this  by-play. 

"  This  is  a  lieutenant  of  the  American  Continental 
ship  Ranger,  Captain  John  Paul  Jones  —  " 

"  The    d d,    murdering    pirate  !  "     exclaimed 

Coventry,  hotly. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  O'Neill,  stepping  forward  with  his 
hand  upon  his  sword.  "  You  shall  neither  swear  be 
fore  a  lady,  nor  shall  you  in  this  scandalous  manner 
disparage  the  ship  of  which  I  have  the  honor  to  be 
the  first  lieutenant,  nor  asperse  the  character  of  her 
captain.  Withdraw  your  words,  or  you  shall  answer 
to  me  with  that  which  hangs  by  your  side." 

"  I  fight  only  with  gentlemen,"  said  Coventry, 
coldly. 

"  My  custom,"  replied  O'Neill,  promptly,  "  is  in  the 
main  the  same  as  your  own ;  but  I  sometimes  make 
exceptions,  which  I  am  willing  to  do  in  this  instance. 
I  require  you  immediately,  instantly,  to  apologize  to 
me  for  your  remarks." 

40 


SWORDS  ARE   CROSSED   ON   THE   SAND 

"And  if  I  refuse?" 

"  I  shall  strike  them  down  your  throat  with  my 
hand." 

"  'S  death,  sir  !  How  dare  you,  a  beggarly  adven 
turer,  talk  thus  to  me,  an  officer,  a  major  in  the  army 
of  his  Gracious  Majesty  King  George,  a  Coventry, 
a  Westbrooke !  " 

"  If  you  were  an  angel  from  heaven  't  would  make 
no  difference  to  me,  for  I  would  have  you  know,  sir, 
that  I  am  of  as  good  a  house  as  —  ay,  a  better  than 
—  your  own,  a  descendant  of  kings  —  " 

"An  Irishman,  I  infer?"  said  Coventry,  sneering. 

"  You  are  correct,  sir,  and  my  people  have  been 
chieftains  for  thirty  generations." 

"  Ah,  in  Ireland  ?  "  The  manner  of  the  question 
made  it  another  insult,  but  O'Neill  restrained  himself 
under  the  great  provocation  and  answered  coldly: 

"  Where  else,  sir,  and  where  better?  As  for  me,  I 
am  temporarily  an  officer  of  yonder  ship,  the  Ranger, 
flying  the  flag  of  the  American  Republic,  but  I  am  a 
lieutenant  in  the  navy  of  his  Majesty  Louis  XVI. 
My  father  is  a  marshal  of  France.  Will  you  draw 
now?"  he  cried,  stepping  forward  impetuously. 

"A  brilliant  array  of  titles  surely;  pity  it  lacks 
other  confirmation  than  your  word.  I  scarcely  com 
prehend  the  catalogue,"  replied  Coventry,  coldly. 

"  I  shall  endeavor  to  enlighten  you  as  to  my  credi 
bility  with  this,"  said  O'Neill,  drawing  his  sword. 
"  Now  will  you  fight  or  not?  " 

"And  if  I  persist  in  my  refusal?"  asked  Coventry, 
who  was  playing  for  time. 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  At  this  juncture  I  shall  be  under  the  painful 
necessity  of  killing  you  in  the  presence  of  your  be 
trothed,  so  draw,  my  dear  sir,  if  not  for  honor,  for  — " 

"What?" 

"  Life !  " 

"  On  guard  !  "  cried  the  Englishman,  whipping  out 
his  sword. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Elizabeth,  springing  between  their 
swords.  "He  saved  my  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own." 

"  D  —  n  him  !  "  said  the  Englishman,  grinding  his 
teeth. 

"  Your  condemnation  comes  too  late,  sir,"  said 
O'Neill,  with  bitter  emphasis,  with  an  expressive 
glance  at  Elizabeth,  who  continued  impetuously: 

"This  gentleman  treated  me  with  the  most  distin 
guished  courtesy." 

"  I  wish  that  he  had  exhibited  some  of  it  here," 
interrupted  Coventry  again. 

"  I  have  but  followed  your  own  example,"  retorted 
O'Neill,  calmly. 

"  Will  you  hear  me  in  silence,  Edward?  They  are 
not  pirates  — 

"  I  call  them  so,"  said  Coventry,  stubbornly. 

"  Enough,  Lady  Elizabeth,"  said  O'Neill,  taking 
his  share  in  the  conversation  again.  "  Two  lovers 
are  sometimes  an  embarrassment  of  riches.  This 
seems  to  be  one  of  the  times.  If  you  will  stand 
aside,  I  trust  that  a  few  moments  will  rid  you  of 
one  or  the  other  of  them." 

"  I  will  not  go !  "  said  the  girl,  defiantly.  "  You 
shall  not  fight ;  you  have  nothing  to  quarrel  about." 

42 


SWORDS   ARE   CROSSED   ON  THE   SAND 

"  We  have  you,  or  rather  he  has,"  responded  the 
Irishman. 

"  Withdraw,  I  beg  of  you,  Elizabeth.  This  mat 
ter  must  be  settled,"  said  Coventry,  in  his  turn. 

"  I  will  not,  I  tell  you !  "  persisted  the  girl,  deter 
minedly.  "  If  you  fight,  you  will  fight  through  me." 

"  We  are  doing  that  now,"  said  O'Neill,  savagely. 
"  Will  you  withdraw,  madam?  " 

"  I  repeat  it,  I  will  not,  and  I  wish  to  remind  you 
that  I  do  not  like  your  tone.  You  are  not  on  the 
deck  of  your  ship  now,  sir." 

"  Oh,  am  I  not?  Boat  ahoy,  there!  Price,"  cried 
O'Neill,  waving  his  hand.  A  few  strokes  brought 
the  whaleboat  to  the  shore  again.  The  crew  were 
eager  to  take  a  hand  in  the  fray.  "  Coxswain,  come 
here,"  said  the  officer. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  replied  the  sailor ;  and  while  the 
other  two  stood  wondering,  the  veteran  seaman 
rolled  up  to  them  and  saluted  his  lieutenant  with  a 
sea  scrape.  "  Want  us  to  take  a  hand  in  this  yere 
little  scrimmage,  yer  Honor?  " 

"  No.  Take  this  lady  and  her  maid  to  that  clump 
of  rocks  yonder." 

"  That 's  easy ;  't  ain't  no  fightin'  at  all,  that.  Come 
along,  yer  Leddyship,"  said  the  old  man,  in  great  dis 
appointment,  as  the  boat  shoved  off  again. 

"  You  monster !  "  cried  Elizabeth,  stamping  her 
foot  on  the  sand.  "  You  are  a  pirate,  after  all !  u 

"As  you  say,  madam.  Stop,  sir!"  said  O'Neill  to 
Coventry,  who  made  a  move  to  approach  the  sailor. 
"  My  man  will  do  no  harm  to  her  Ladyship,  and  you 

43 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

have  other  matters  to  attend  to,  unless  you  wish  to 
shelter  yourself  behind  a  woman's  petticoats." 

Coventry  had  been  playing  for  more  time,  but  this 
was  more  than  he  could  stand.  "  I  think  you  have 
said  enough,  sir,  and  if  you  are  ready,"  he  said,  "  we 
will  talk  in  another  fashion." 

"  At  your  service,"  said  the  Irishman,  composedly. 
Two  swords  flashed  in  the  air  simultaneously,  and 
rang  against  each  other  with  deadly  purpose  a  mo 
ment  after.  Both  men  were  masters  of  the  weapon. 
Coventry  had  been  thoroughly  trained  in  the  more 
direct  English  school ;  while  O'Neill  was  a  master  of 
all  the  graceful  tricks  of  the  subtle  fence  of  France 
and  Italy.  It  was  as  pretty  a  play  —  parry  and 
thrust  —  as  one  could  hope  to  see,  and  for  a  time  the 
advantage  was  with  neither  one  of  them.  Elizabeth 
stood  with  clasped  hands,  her  face  pale  with  emotion, 
her  lips  parted,  eagerly  watching.  The  maid  as 
usual  was  furnishing  a  comic  side  to  the  scene  by  her 
screams  of  "  murder  —  help  !  "  while  the  sailors' 
were  deeply  interested  in  the  two  combatants. 

Finally,  after  one  especially  vicious  thrust  on  the 
part  of  Coventry,  whose  foot  slipped  a  little,  a  clever 
parry,  followed  by  a  dashing  riposte  en  quarte,  which 
was  met  and  returned  with  less  skill  than  usual, 
O'Neill,  with  a  graceful  turn  of  the  wrist,  whirled  the 
Englishman's  sword  from  his  hand.  It  flew  up  into 
the  air  and  fell  clanging  on  the  rocks  some  distance 
away. 

Coventry  was  unarmed  and  helpless  before  a  bitter 
enemy.  He  was  the  stronger  of  the  two,  and  it 

44 


Elizabeth  stood  with  clasped  hands,  her  face  pale  with  emotion, 

eagerly  watching. 


SWORDS   ARE   CROSSED   ON   THE   SAND 

flashed  into  his  mind  to  spring  upon  his  antagonist 
suddenly,  catch  him  in  his  arms,  and  overcome  him 
by  brute  force ;  but  the  glittering  point  of  his  enemy's 
sword,  shivering  in  the  sunlight  like  a  serpent's 
tongue,  effectively  barred  the  way.  He  had  played 
the  game  and  lost.  If  he  must  die  in  the  presence 
of  his  love,  he  would  do  it  like  a  gentleman,  on  the 
sword's  point. 

"  Strike,  sir !  "  he  said  hoarsely,  with  one  quick 
glance  toward  Lady  Elizabeth,  who  stood  perfectly 
motionless,  looking  on  in  terror.  She  would  have 
run  forward  had  it  not  been  for  old  Price. 

"  Oh,  he  will  be  killed,  he  will  be  killed  !  "  wailed 
the  maid. 

"  Sir  Englishman,  pick  up  your  sword,"  said 
O'Neill,  lowering  his  point. 

"  Sir  Irishman,"  said  the  other,  bowing,  "  men  may 
call  you  pirate  —  " 

"  Not  with  impunity,  sir,"  interrupted  the  touchy 
O'Neill. 

"  That  I  grant  you.  I  was  about  to  add  that,  what 
ever  they  call  you,  you  fight  like  a  gentleman  ;  ,and  it 
will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  testify  to  your  personal 
worth  at  every  convenient  season.  Will  you  permit 
me,  though  I  do  not  know  your  name,  to  call  you 
my  friend  ?  " 

There  is  a  great  educational  value  in  the  point 
of  a  naked  sword,  and  it  may  account  for  the  sudden 
change  which  came  over  Coventry. 

"  I  shall"  esteem  myself  honored,  sir.  My  name  is 
O'Neill,  Barry  O'Neill,  at  your  service." 

45 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  I  shall  remember  it.  You  have  not  only  saved 
the  life  of  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard,  but  now  you 
have  given  me  my  own." 

"  Thus  am  I  the  prince  of  match-makers,"  said 
O'Neill,  bitterly.  "  I  would  that  I  had  lost  mine 
in  one  of  the  savings !  " 

"  Now,  sir,"  continued  Coventry,  disregarding  this 
last  remark,  "  if  you  would  be  advised  by  me,  with 
draw  while  you  may  yet  do  so  in  safety." 


CHAPTER   VI 

The  Master  Player  takes  a  Hand 

AT  this  moment,  a  number  of  red-coated  soldiers 
clambered  down  the  path  in  the  rocks,  while 
a  squad  of  cavalry  came  galloping  upon  the  beach 
by  the  road  at  the  other  end,  and,  at  once  dismount 
ing,  advanced  up  the  strand.  The  seamen  in  the 
boat,  in  obedience  to  a  wave  of  O'Neill's  hand, 
swept  her  in  toward  the  shore,  jumped  out,  and 
moved  toward  him,  drawing  their  cutlasses  and 
handling  their  pistols  threateningly;  though  they 
were  greatly  outnumbered,  they  would  not  give  up 
without  a  struggle.  It  was  Coventry's  opportunity 
now. 

"  I  shall  not  be  able  to  indulge  your  desire  for  the 
loss  of  your  life,"  he  said,  stepping  back  and  pick 
ing  up  his  sword,  "but  I  fear  that  duty  imposes  upon 
me  the  necessity  of  depriving  you  of  your  liberty  — 
I  regret  the  necessity,  believe  me,  't  is  a  poor  re 
turn  for  your  generosity,  but  I  have  no  option." 

"  What  mean  you  ?  " 

"  You  are,  by  your  own  statements,  a  rebel  against 
his  Majesty.  It  is  my  duty  as  commander  of  this 
post  and  a  loyal  servant  of  the  king  to  apprehend 
you.  Indeed,  I  have  been  especially  charged  to  look 

47 


THE  GRIP  OF   HONOR 

out  for  you.  I  will  promise  you  and  your  men  the 
best  of  treatment,  however,  and  you  liberty  of  ac 
tion,  if  you  will  give  me  your  parole." 

"I  am  twice  captured  then,  it  seems,"  said  the 
lieutenant,  looking  at  Elizabeth,  who  had  come  for 
ward  as  soon  as  old  Price,  who  had  left  her,  had 
sprung  to  his  officer's  side.  As  the  girl  drew  near 
to  him,  and  Major  Coventry  turned  away  his  head  a 
moment  to  give  an  order,  the  Irishman  said  to  her: 

"  Why  did  you  not  call  out  to  save  your  lover  a 
moment  since?  " 

"It  was  not  necessary,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
with  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I  knew  what  you 
would  do."  Delay  was  dangerous  to  him,  —  Coven 
try  was  posting  his  men;  he  hesitated  a  moment, 
however,  and  taking  her  hand  bowed  low  over  it. 

"Thank  you,"  he  whispered  gratefully.  "This 
word,  and  you,  I  shall  remember." 

"And  I,"  said  the  girl,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears, 
"  will  never  forget  —  " 

"Come,  sir,"  said  Coventry,  dryly,  turning  at  this 
moment,  having  finished  his  dispositions.  "I  think 
you  overstep  the  privileges  of  a  parole;  and  if  you 
will  have  your  men  lay  down  their  arms,  we  will  go 
up  to  the  castle.  I  have  sent  for  a  carriage  for  you, 
Elizabeth,  which  will  be  here  shortly." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  O'Neill,  "that  I  have  a 
mind  to  say  to  you  that  I  might  as  well  die  right 
here  as  at  any  place  else,  and  I  do  not  think  I  shall 
go  to  that  castle,  after  all.  There  are  seven  of  us 
here  —  " 

48 


THE   MASTER   PLAYER  TAKES   A   HAND 

"  Close  in  there ! "  sharply  shouted  Coventry  to 
his  soldiers,  who  obeyed  him  promptly.  "Make 
ready! " 

"Handle  your  pistols,  men,"  cried  the  other, 
whipping  out  his  own;  but  again  Elizabeth  inter 
fered  in  the  fray.  She  ran  between  the  American 
seamen  and  the  English  soldiers  with  outstretched 
hands. 

"Stop!"  she  cried.  "There  must  be  no  further 
fighting  here.  This  gentleman  came  to  this  spot  to 
do  me  a  favor,  to  set  me  free.  My  life  is  his  —  " 

"I  give  it  back  to  you,"  cried  O'Neill. 

"And  yours,  Major  Coventry,  was  his  also,"  she 
added  reproachfully. 

"I  give  it  to  him  as  well;  and  if  any  more  lives 
are  wanted,  anybody  can  have  mine  for  the  taking," 
interrupted  the  sailor  again. 

"This  must  go  no  further,"  continued  the  girl. 

"And  it  shall  not,  madam,"  cried  a  deep,  clear 
voice,  as  one  of  the  cutters  of  the  Ranger,  filled  to 
the  gunwales  with  heavily  armed  men,  and  with  a 
swivel  in  the  bow  and  a  man  standing  over  it  with 
a  lighted  match  in  his  hand,  came  sweeping  around 
the  headland  and  dashing  in  toward  the  shore.  It 
was  under  the  command  of  Jones  himself,  who  had 
grown  impatient  at  the  delay. 

"I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  a  tcte-a-tete,  gentlemen," 
he  cried. 

"You  are  beaten  again,  Major  Coventry,"  said 
O'Neill,  calmly.  "The  odds  are  in  our  favor  now. 
Throw  down  your  arms  instantly,  you  dogs,"  he 
4  49 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

shouted  to  the  English  soldiers.  "Back!  Out  of 
the  way,  Miss  Howard." 

He  sprang  to  her  side,  and  clasping  her  around 
the  waist  as  if  she  had  been  a  child,  lifted  her  out 
of  the  line  of  fire.  The  jealous  Coventry  noticed  two 
things,  — he  did  not  release  her,  nor  did  she  struggle 
to  get  away.  The  sullen  soldiers  rallied  about  Cov 
entry  and  presented  their  arms  threateningly;  they 
had  no  mind  either  to  yield  without  a  fight. 

"Stand  by!"  shouted  Jones  to  the  marines  in  his 
boat  and  to  the  gunners  forward. 

"Stop,  for  God's  sake  stop,  Captain  Jones!  You 
have  been  good  to  me,"  cried  Elizabeth,  now  strug 
gling  faintly  to  escape  from  the  grasp  of  O'Neill. 
"  I  know  that  you  are  a  gentleman.  That  officer  is 
my  betrothed.  Withhold  your  fire.  They  will 
retire.  There  must  be  no  blood  shed.  You  promised 
to  set  me  free  and  in  safety  ashore  and  leave  me 
there.  Go,  I  entreat  you  !  " 

"  Steady,  lads,  steady ! "  cried  Jones,  stepping 
out  of  the  boat.  "And  you,  sir,"  to  the  English 
officer,  "will  you  withdraw  quietly,  taking  your  lady 
with  you,  of  course,  if  we  engage  to  do  the  same? 
You  are  outnumbered,  and  we  can  cut  you  to  pieces. 
Take  the  word  of  an  older  fighter,  your  honor  will 
be  safe,  sir." 

"You  are  right,  sir,  'tis  best.  I  must  needs  sub 
mit,  I  suppose,"  said  Coventry,  resigning  himself 
the  more  gracefully  to  the  inevitable  as  he  could 
then  receive  his  love  again.  "Come,  Lady  Eliza 
beth." 

5° 


THE   MASTER   PLAYER   TAKES   A   HAND 

"Now,  why  didn't  you  protest  when  I  was  cap 
tured?"  said  O'Neill,  releasing  her  waist,  but  still 
holding  her  hand. 

"  Could  it  be  because  I  wanted  you  to  be  with 
me?"  she  whispered,  caught  off  her  guard  in  spite 
of  herself,  with  a  blush  covering  her  face. 

"God  bless  you  for  that,  and  good-bye,"  he  said, 
bowing  over  her  hand.  "  A  year,  give  me  a  year  —  " 
he  turned  and  walked  away. 

"  Sir*"  said  Coventry,  sheathing  his  sword,  and 
walking  down  to  where  Jones  stood  upon  the  sand, 
"we  have  been  misinformed  concerning  you.  I 
have  had  a  little  interview  with  your  first  lieutenant 
which  has  convinced  me  that  I  was  wrong,  and  this 
talk  has  added  to  my  knowledge.  As  an  officer  of 
the  king,  I  offer  you  my  hand.  Whatever  your 
political  or  personal  affiliations  may  be,  I  am  glad 
to  recognize  in  you  gentlemen  of  merit  and  distinc 
tion.  I  trust  to  be  able  to  repay  the  obligation  you 
have  laid  upon  me  and  my  betrothed  on  some  future 
occasion.  We  are  friends  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  replied  Jones,  "  I  love  a  gallant  foe.  I  shall 
remember  you.  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy." 

"And  I  as  well,"  added  O'Neill. 

"It  is  not  the  practice  of  the  American  Navy," 
continued  Jones,  "  to  force  ships  of  war  and  bloody 
battles  between  loving  hearts.  Mistress  Howard, 
fare  you  well ;  the  Ranger,  her  officers  and  crew,  are 
yours  if  you  wish.  If  we  should  be  met  by  another 
ship  with  you  in  command,  we  strike  to  you  without 
a  blow." 

51 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Elizabeth,"  said  Coventry,  magnanimously,  "can 
you  not  bid  your  friends  good-bye?  " 

"  I  shall  ever  remember  Captain  John  Paul  Jones," 
said  Lady  Elizabeth,  stepping  forward  and  giving 
the  little  captain  her  hand  to  kiss,  "and  I  shall 
never  forget  Lieutenant  O'Neill." 

"Will  you  wait  one  year  for  him?  "  he  whispered 
as  he  bowed  low  over  her  hand. 

"Come  and  see,"  she  answered,  and  turned  away. 


BOOK     II 

THEY   MEET   AGAIN 


CHAPTER   VII 

After  a  Long  Time 

" F INHERE  are  only  two  men-of-war  in  the  whole 
A  lot." 

"Right,  yer  Honor.  That  'un  near  the  shore 
there-away  looks  like  a  big  frigate.  That'll  be 
the  Serapis,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"Yes,  and  that  one  further  out,  the  Scarborough." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,  an'  all  the  rest  on  'em  is  merchant 
men.  There  ain't  a  gun  on  board  any  on  'em. 
Nice  pickin's  them  '11  be  fer  us  poor  sailormen  arter 
we  dispose  of  them  war-vessels.  Dash  my  wig  !  jist 
think  of  them  fat  traders,  an'  we  a-rummagin'  among 
'em  —  " 

"That  will  do,  Price.  Just  moderate  your  trans 
ports  a  little,"  said  the  officer,  stepping  forward  to 
the  brow  of  the  hill  and  taking  another  long  look  at 
the  harbor. 

"I  ain't  no  transport,"  muttered  the  garrulous 
old  man  under  his  breath.  "I  won't  carry  no 
soldiers  nowhere.  I 'm  a  man-o'-war,  I  am;"  but 
he  took  good  care  that  his  superior  should  not  hear 
these  somewhat  insubordinate  remarks. 

"Well,"  said  the  other,  finally  turning  about  after 
his  close  scrutiny,  "I  think  we  have  ascertained 
about  all  we  have  come  for.  They  are  the  Baltic 

55 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

convoy,  without  doubt,  and  you  would  better  make 
a  straight  course  for  the  ship  at  once  and  report." 

"An'  you,  sir?"  asked  the  old  man,  respectfully, 
"won't  you  come  along,  sir?  I  hate  to  cut  cable 
an'  leave  you  here  adrift,  alone,  yer  Honor." 

"No,"  answered  the  officer,  after  a  reflective 
pause,  "  I  think  I  shall  go  up  to  that  castle  on  the 
bluff  beyond  and  find  out  a  little  more  definitely  as 
to  the  situation,  if  possible.  Meanwhile,  do  you 
get  on  your  horse  and  ride  back  to  Bridlington  Bay. 
Go  aboard  the  Alert  and  tell  Mr.  Lunt,  from  me,  to 
join  the  Richard  to  the  southward  at  once,  and  notify 
Captain  Jones  of  what  we  have  seen.  Tell  him  I 
think  it  will  be  perfectly  safe  for  him  to  come  on : 
there  is  a  great  fleet  of  merchant  ships  here  with 
only  two  ships-of-war;  he  will  rejoice  at  the  chance 
of  a  fair  fight.  I  will  find  means  to  join  him  at  the 
rendezvous  before  the  rest  of  the  ships  can  assemble 
and  they  can  get  under  way.  Now  bear  a  hand ; 
don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  your  keel." 

"  Oh,  Lord,  yer  Honor,  have  I  got  to  git  on  board 
that  'ere  four-legged  craft  agin?"  said  old  Price, 
ruefully. 

"That 's  what  you  have  to  do,  my  lad,"  remarked 
the  officer,  cheerfully. 

"Seems  like  somethin 's  wrong  with  him,"  said 
the  old  sailor.  "A  animal  wot  steers  by  the  head 
is  contrary  like  to  natur.  Now  if  I  could  only  git 
him  to  go  about  on  t'other  tack,  or  wear  him,  by 
shiftin'  his  tail,  I 'd  understand  him  perfectly;  but 
this  yere  tiller  rope  riggin'  over  his  bows  is  wot 

56 


AFTER  A   LONG  TIME 

gits  me.  An',  sir,  I  can't  make  out  with  them  'ere 
stirrups  nuther;  it 's  like  hangin'  onto  the  yard-arm 
in  a  tossin'  sea  without  no  foot  ropes.  Howsom- 
ever,  if  I  must,  I  must,  I  guess." 

"Oh,  you  won't  mind  it,"  replied  the  officer, 
laughing  at  the  old  man's  rueful  face.  "Besides, 
the  wind's  fair,  and  you  '11  be  going  free  most  of 
the  way.  Just  give  him  a  touch  of  your  weather 
heel  once  in  a  while,  and  you  '11  soon  make  the 
harbor." 

"  I  never  thought  about  the  wind,"  said  the  veteran 
gunner,  thoughtfully,  his  face  brightening  as  he 
turned  and  listened  for  it.  "  Yer  Honor's  right. 
'Twill  be  plain  sailin'.  Well,  sir,  anchor's  aweigh, 
an'  here  goes! " 

The  old  seaman,  giving  great  evidence  of  his  dis 
inclination  in  spite  of  the  favoring  breeze,  at  last 
climbed  upon  the  back  of  his  staid  old  horse,  and, 
resisting  the  temptation  to  give  him  his  direction  by 
a  pull  of  the  tail,  got  under  way  and  lurched  rapidly 
down  the  road.  Left  to  himself,  the  lieutenant 
mounted  his  own  horse  —  surprising  to  state,  for  a 
sailor  he  was  an  excellent  horseman  — •  and  rode 
down  toward  the  sleeping  town  nestled  around  Scar 
borough  harbor,  which  was  filled  with  a  large  fleet 
of  merchant  ships  convoyed  by  two  men-of-war,  all 
riding  quietly  at  their  anchors. 

Opposite  the  acclivity  on  which  the  two  men  had 
stood,  and  to  the  north  of  the  town,  rose  a  bold, 
splendid  headland,  or  scar,  almost  an  island,  to  the 
height  of  about 'three  hundred  feet.  The  rugged 

57 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

crest  was  crowned  by  a  picturesque  old  castle.  The 
headland  jutted  boldly  out  into  the  sea,  and  the  wild 
waters  dashed  upon  its  walls  from  every  side. 
Access  to  the  castle  from  the  town  was  by  means  of 
a  causeway  and  bridge  springing  over  a  rocky  and 
otherwise  impassable  connection  between  the  cliff 
and  the  mainland,  which  was  sometimes  flooded  at 
high-tide. 

Portions  of  the  castle  were  in  bad  repair,  or  had 
been  dismantled  in  the  several  wars  in  which  it  had 
played  a  memorable  part  since  its  erection  nearly 
seven  hundred  years  before  by  a  follower  of  William 
the  Conqueror;  but  a  large  part  of  it  was  still  in 
habitable,  and  had  been  provided  with  a  sufficient 
garrison.  A  heavy  water  battery,  which  had  been 
placed  in  position  during  the  rebellion  in  1745,  had 
been  recently  strengthened  and  reinforced. 

Captain  Jones,  in  the  Bon  Homme  Richard,  had 
been  cruising  around  the  coasts  of  the  British  Islands 
for  some  time.  He  had  heard  of  the  expected  arrival 
of  the  Baltic  fleet  in  these  waters,  and  had  presumed 
that  they  would  make  Scarborough  harbor.  Word 
had  been  received  from  a  small  trader  he  had  over 
hauled,  that  a  large  number  of  ships  had  assembled 
in  that  harbor;  and  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  he 
might  safely  attack  them  with  his  small  nondescript 
squadron,  he  had  accepted  the  voluntary  services  of 
Lieutenant  O'Neill,  seconded  by  gunner  Price  of 
the  Bon  Homme  Richard. 

They  had  gone  on  ahead  of  the  squadron  in  the 
cutter  Alert,  and  had  landed  below  Scarborough 

58 


AFTER  A  LONG  TIME 

headland,  and  ridden  on  to  Scarborough  to  ascertain 
the  facts.  The  Alert  was  to  carry  the  news  back  to 
Jones,  on  the  Richard,  farther  down  the  coast,  and 
the  vessels  of  his  squadron  were  all  to  assemble  a 
day  or  two  later  at  Bridlington  Bay,  a  small  and 
unimportant  town  with  a  good  harbor  within  easy 
reaching  distance  of  the  expected  prey.  Should  the 
report  of  the  scouts  be  favorable,  they  would  proceed 
at  once  to  attack  the  convoy. 

On  their  journey  to  Scarborough,  O'Neill  had 
ascertained  from  a  passing  countryman  that  Lord 
Westbrooke  was  still  governor  of  the  castle,  and  he 
at  once  surmised  that  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard  would 
probably  be  there  with  her  guardian.  Six  months 
more  than  the  year  he  had  asked  for  from  her  had 
elapsed,  and  many  untoward  circumstances  had  pre 
vented  him  from  carrying  out  his  plan  of  seeking 
her,  but  she  had  ever  been  in  his  heart,  and  time 
and  separation  had  but  intensified  his  passion.  The 
mercurial  Irishman  had  been  deeply  smitten  by  the 
proud  English  beauty,  and  the  constancy  of  his  devo 
tion  evidenced  the  depth  of  the  impression  she  had 
made  upon  him. 

When  Jones  had  returned  with  the  Ranger  from 
his  first  successful  cruise,  he  and  his  officers  had 
been  feted  and  made  much  of  by  the  French  court. 
The  gallant  adventures  in  which  he  had  participated 
lent  a  new  charm  to  the  fascinating  personality  of 
the  son  of  the  old  marshal,  whose  entree  was  already 
everything  that  could  be  desired;  and  his  heart, 
accordingly,  had  been  a  target  for  repeated  attacks 

59 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

upon  the  part  of  the  bright-eyed  and  fascinating 
dames  of  France  —  but  to  no  avail  had  they  attempted 
its  capture. 

Something  of  the  story  of  his  devotion  had  been 
allowed  to  leak  out,  however,  to  account  for  his 
obduracy,  and  they  finally  understood  why  he  was  so 
unusually  insensible  to  their  charms.  This  romance 
naturally  only  added  a  piquancy  to  the  feminine 
pursuit  of  which  he  was  the  object,  although  the 
ladies'  sportive  love  chase  proved,  in  the  end,  un 
availing.  He  had  resolved,  O'Neill  said,  to  show 
the  world  that  unusual  spectacle,  a  constant  Irish 
man  !  This  was  to  attempt  the  impossible,  had 
been  the  quick  reply,  but,  nevertheless,  he  had 
accomplished  it. 

Our  Celtic  mariner  did  not  resign  from  the 
American  service,  however,  not  because  he  cared 
particularly  for  America,  for  democratic  doctrines 
could  never  be  acceptable  to  a  follower  of  the  young 
Stuart,  the  intimate  associate  of  the  young  nobles 
of  France;  but,  primarily,  because  he  saw  in  it 
renewed  opportunities  to  annoy  and  humiliate  the 
stout  Hanoverian  whom  he  and  his  people  hated, 
and  from  whom  they  had  received  much  harm,  and, 
secondly,  because  he  was  so  much  attracted  by  the 
strong  personality  of  Paul  Jones.  So  great  had 
become  his  regard  for  this  wonderful  man  that  he 
had  even  waived  considerations  of  rank  in  favor  of 
an  American,  the  gallant  Richard  Dale,  and  had 
consented  to  serve  as  second  lieutenant  instead  of 
first,  on  the  Richard,  when  that  famous  ship  and  her 

60 


ill-assorted  consorts  started  forth  upon  the  memorable 
cruise. 

The  tacticians  of  the  French  Navy  unfortunately 
were  not  given  to  consider  downright  hard  fighting 
as  the  end  and  aim  of  naval  enterprise.  Their 
manoeuvres  were  calculated  to  annoy  and  harass  the 
enemy,  but  their  first  thought  was  not  to  destroy  his 
ships,  but  to  protect  their  own,  — a  fatal  mistake  in 
policy  from  which  they  have  ever  suffered. 

This  was  not  John  Paul  Jones'  way.  Whatever 
else  he  was,  he  was  a  fighter  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end,  and  O'Neill  found  in  him  a  congenial 
spirit.  The  love-lorn  Irishman  had  tried  several 
times  to  communicate  with  Lady  Elizabeth  by  letter 
and  messenger,  but  without  success,  for  he  received 
no  reply  to  his  letters,  and  his  messengers  had  never 
returned.  Therefore,  when  he  found  himself  in 
such  close  proximity  to  her  as  on  this,  the  evening 
of  Tuesday,  the  2ist  of  September,  1779,  he  was 
utterly  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  at  least  to 
attempt  to  see  her  again. 

Jones  and  the  ships  were  not  due  at  the  rendez 
vous  until  the  day  after  the  next  day,  that  would  be 
Thursday  morning.  There  would  be  ample  time  to 
rejoin  them  on  the  next  day,  Wednesday.  O'Neill 
imagined  himself  perfectly  safe;  he  had  used  no 
disguise  except  to  wear  the  uniform  of  a  French 
naval  officer,  and  as  France  and  England  were  nomi 
nally  at  peace,  he  persuaded  himself  that  he  was  in 
no  danger.  It  was  a  breach  of  military  propriety, 
he  admitted,  of  course,  but  nothing  more,  —  this 

61 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

failure  to  return  promptly  to  his  ship,  —  and  for 
that  he  was  willing  to  surfer. 

With  the  delightful  casuistry  of  lovers  he  per 
suaded  himself  against  his  better  judgment  and 
failed  to  see  his  action  in  its  true  military  signifi 
cance.  Trusting  to  audacity,  mother  wit,  and  Dan 
Cupid  for  protection,  he  went  bravely  on.  In  fact, 
he  was  taking  his  life  in  his  hand.  {His  love  blinded 
him,  • —  it  is  the  chief  function  of  the  cherubic  god; 
without  that  power  most  matches  he  attempts  would 
fail.~\  Meanwhile,  with  a  beating  heart  —  beating 
not  from  fear,  but  with  anticipation  —  he  rode  slowly 
down  the  hill  and  into  the  town,  where  he  left  his 
horse  at  an  inn,  and  made  his  way  on  foot,  and  sup- 
perless,  such  his  eagerness,  toward  the  castle. 

He  had  no  definite  plan.  There  did  not.  seem  to 
be  room  for  any.  He  had  one  consuming  desire  :  to 
see,  to  speak  to,  to  come  in  touch  again  with  the 
beautiful  girl  who  had  been  the  object  of  his  every 
thought,  the  end  of  his  every  desire,  the  spirit  of 
every  dream  in  which  he  had  indulged  since  they 
had  met.  He  had  a  thought  —  a  hope  —  that  she 
was  still  Elizabeth  Howard.  There  was  that  in  her 
promise,  in  her  look,  in  her  word,  when  she  had  said, 
"  Come  and  see  "  on  the  strand,  which  gave  him  the 
hope  that  she  would  wait  until  he  did  come,  be  it  one 
year  or  two ;  and  with  the  sanguine  spirit  of  his  race 
he  could  not  prepare  himself  for  a  disappointment. 

The  moon  had  risen  as  he  walked  quietly  through 
the  town  and  began  to  mount  the  hill.  He  did  not 
know  how  to  gain  admittance  to  the  castle  when  he 

62 


AFTER   A   LONG  TIME 

approached  it;  and  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  as  he 
was  standing  on  the  causeway  looking  toward  the 
gate,  he  was  approached  by  a  squad  of  soldiers 
under  the  command  of  a  sergeant,  who  were  return 
ing  from  an  errand  in  the  town.  His  meditations, 
as  he  stood  gazing  at  the  lights  shining  from  the 
different  windows,  wondering  behind  which  wall  was 
ensconced  the  idol  of  his  heart,  were  rudely  inter 
rupted  by  the  grasp  of  a  rough  hand  upon  his 
shoulder  and  a  harsh  voice  in  his  ear  saying,  — 

"  Well,  sir,  wot  are  you  a-doin'  'ere  at  this  hour 
o'  the  night?  Entrance  to  the  castle  is  forbid  to 
every  one  except  members  of  the  garrison,  or  them 
wich  has  passes.  No  one  is  allowed  on  the  cause 
way  after  sunset  even.  There 's  so  many  tales  of 
raidin's  an'  hell's  own  doin's  on  the  coast  by  that 
bloody  ravagin'  pirate  Jones  an'  his  bleedin'  gang, 
that  we  're  a'most  in  a  state  of  siege.  Give  an 
account  of  yourself." 

"  My  friend,"  said  O'Neill,  calmly,  glancing  rapidly 
about  him,  and  giving  up  at  once  any  idea  of  resist 
ance,  for  he  was  surrounded  by  at  least  a  dozen  men, 
one  or  two  of  whom  had  laid  violent  hands  upon 
him,  —  "my  friend,"  he  said,  speaking  in  broken 
English,  with  a  well-simulated  French  accent,  "  I  am 
an  officer  of  the  King  of  France,  travelling  for 
pleasure  through  your  great  country.  I  hear  of  the 
old  castle  —  I  wish  to  see  it  —  hence  I  come  here. 
I  have  done  nothing  —  you  will  let  me  go  free?" 

"A  Frenchman?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  I  have  that  honor." 
63 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  Well,  that  settles  it.  You  Ve  got  to  come  along 
with  us  now.  A  frog-eatin'  Frenchman  's  our  natural- 
born  enemy." 

"  But,  monsieur,  there  is  no  war  between  my 
master  and  your  king?" 

"  Don't  monshur  me.  I  don't  take  no  palaverin', 
an'  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  whether  there  is  war 
or  not,"  said  the  sergeant,  brusquely;  "  but  we  always 
did  hate  the  bloody  Frenchies,  an'  we  always  will, 
an'  whenever  we  ketch  one  of  'em  around  here,  he  's 
got  to  give  an  account  of  hisself.  Now  if  you  come 
along  peaceable  like,  all  right  — we  won't  hurt  you. 
If  you  don't,  we'll  just  pick  you  up  and  carry  you. 
You  can  take  your  choice,"  he  added  indifferently. 

A  horseman  galloping  in  from  the  town  at  this 
moment  drew  rein  in  front  of  the  little  group. 

"  Ah,  sergeant,  what  is  it?  Whom  have  you 
there?"  he  queried  sharply. 

"  'Tis  a  Frenchman,  sir.  We  found  him  a-prowlin' 
round  here.  He's  a  spy,  I  takes  it,"  answered  the 
sergeant,  saluting  but  still  retaining  his  grasp. 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,"  said  O'Neill ;  "  I  am  no 
spy.  I  am  a  gentleman  of  France,  as  I  explain  to 
this  man.  I  travel — come  here  to  see  the  castle — " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  can  assist  you  to  attain  your  end,"  in 
terrupted  the  lieutenant  on  the  horse ;  "  and  since 
you  desire  to  see  the  castle,  perhaps  you  would  not 
object  to  taking  a  look  at  it  from  the  inside." 

"  As  a  prisoner,  monsieur?  " 

"Well,  I  am  sorry  you  put  it  that  way,  but  I  shall 
be  compelled  to  turn  you  over  to  the  governor." 

64 


AFTER  A   LONG  TIME 

"  But  I  protest,  monsieur  !  " 

"  You  can  protest  to  the  admiral  if  you  wish,  the 
governor,  I  mean,  for  you  will  have  to  come  along 

now,  under  the  circumstances.  We  hear  that  d d 

Scots  buccaneer  Paul  Jones  is  on  the  coast,  and  we 
don't  know  when  he  might  strike  or  whom  he  might 
send  on  shore.  We  can't  be  too  careful,  you  know." 

"  Very  well,  monsieur,  I  come,"  said  O'Neill,  shrug 
ging  his  shoulders  and  resigning  himself  gracefully 
to  the  inevitable. 

"  That 's  good,"  answered  the  young  officer.  "  Bring 
him  along,  sergeant." 

"  Yes,  leftenant.  Now,  you  Johnnie,  right  about 
face,  march !  " 

It  was  in  this  unexpected  and  undignified  manner 
that  O'Neill  gained  entrance  to  the  castle.  As  they 
walked  beneath  the  great  gates  of  the  gloomy  for 
tress,  his  heart,  in  spite  of  the  serious  nature  of  his 
position,  gave  a  bound  of  elation.  This  reckless 
young  man  had  as  yet  no  other  thought  than  that  by 
every  step  he  had  been  brought  a  little  nearer  to  his 
divinity;  if  other  thoughts  had  come,  it  is  doubtful 
if  he  would  have  allowed  them  to  stop  him  now.  As 
the  party  halted  in  the  courtyard,  while  the  lieutenant 
dismounted  and  hastened  to  apprise  the  governor  of 
the  capture,  he  even  ventured  most  imprudently  to 
ask  the  sergeant  if  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard  was  in 
the  castle. 

"  She  is,"  replied  the  astonished  functionary. 
"Wot's  that  to  you,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

5  65 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Lady  Elizabeth  does  not  know  the  Marquis 
de  Richemont 

BEFORE  he  could  answer,  an  order  came  for  the 
prisoner  to  be  brought  forward.  After  ascend 
ing  a  flight  of  worn  stone  steps  and  going  through  a 
long  dark  passage,  a  great  door  was  thrown  open  at  its 
end,  and  he  was  confronted  by  a  blaze  of  light  which 
dazzled  him  at  first,  until,  his  eyes  becoming  accus 
tomed  to  the  illumination,  he  realized  that  he  stood 
on  the  threshold  of  a  splendid  hall  in  the  old  keep, 
which  had  possibly  once  been  the  banqueting  hall 
of  the  castle.  Long  lancet  windows  upon  one  side, 
their  leaded  frames  filled  with  rich  painted  glass, 
looked  out  upon  the  sea,  whose  waves  beating  cease 
lessly  upon  the  bluff  below  filled  the  room  with  a 
subdued  murmur  like  a  strain  of  hushed  and  vibrant 
music,  such  was  the  elevation  of  the  tower. 

The  room  was  massively  and  splendidly  furnished 
with  heavy  antique  furniture.  The  stone  walls  were 
covered  with  hangings  of  rich  old  tapestry  from  the 
famous  looms  of  Arras.  Here  and  there  were  por 
traits  of  distinguished  members  of  the  Westbrooke 
family,  —  women  renowned  for  their  lustrous  beauty, 
or  men  who,  holding  the  castle  at  different  times, 
had  made  their  names  famous  by  their  bravery  and 

66 


MARQUIS   DE   RICHEMONT 

skill.  The  prisoner's  feet  sank  into  a  thick,  soft, 
luxurious  carpet  stretched  upon  the  stone  flags  of 
the  old  floor. 

Writing  at  a  large  table  standing  near  the  centre 
of  the  room  and  covered  with  candelabra,  sat  a  be- 
wigged  old  man  of  commanding  presence  dressed  in 
a  naval  uniform  covered  with  orders  and  stars  be 
speaking  high  rank.  Farther  away,  with  her  back 
turned  to  the  light,  and  to  the  door  by  which  he  had 
entered,  a  young  woman  sat,  apparently  reading  in 
tently.  One  glance  at  the  graceful  curve  of  her  neck 
and  the  exquisite  poise  of  her  head  told  him  it  was 
she.  Forgetful  of  everything  else,  he  would  have 
stepped  forward,  had  it  not  been  for  the  restraining 
hand  of  the  sergeant. 

"  The  prisoner,  m'  Lud,"  said  the  latter,  saluting. 

The  admiral  continued  his  writing  a  moment,  and 
then  looking  up  fixed  his  eyes  keenly  upon  the  young 
man.  His  first  glance  told  him  that  he  had  to  deal 
with  no  ordinary  prisoner.  He  rose  at  once  and 
bowed  with  the  courtesy  of  a  finished  gentleman. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  step  forward,  sir,  and  be 
seated,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  chair.  "  Sergeant, 
remain  on  guard  where  you  are." 

With  an  equally  low  bow  to  the  older  man,  O'Neill 
took  a  few  steps  in  his  direction  and  sat  down  on  the 
indicated  chair  in  front  of  the  admiral,  facing  him 
and  the  woman  beyond,  who,  still  intent  upon  her 
book  or  lost  in  thought,  had  not  yet  noticed  his  en 
trance.  Prisoners,  in  fact,  being  every-day  occur 
rences  at  the  castle  in  these  troublous  times,  they 

67 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

had  ceased  to  interest  her;  still  the  unusual  complai 
sance  of  the  old  man,  as  expressed  by  his  voice  and 
manner,  attracted  her  attention ;  she  looked  up  from 
the  book  without  turning  her  head,  and  listened. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  subject  you  to  any  annoyance,  sir," 
continued  the  admiral,  "  but  the  rules  are  very  strict, 
and  I  must  abide  by  my  own  regulations.  We  appre 
hend  a  descent  upon  our  coast  by  the  notorious 
pirate,  John  Paul  Jones  — "  O'Neill  started  vio 
lently  and  bit  his  lip,  but  said  nothing  —  "  and  it  is 
my  duty  to  take  unusual  precautions,"  added  the 
speaker.  "I  must  ask  your  name,  your  station,  and 
business  here." 

"I  am  the—  '  said  O'Neill,  quietly,  but  with  his 
glance  fixed  on  the  powdered  head  showing  over  the 
chair-back  opposite  him. 

There  was  a  commotion  at  the  other  side  of  the 
table.  Lady  Elizabeth  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a 
hurried  exclamation,  dropped  her  book  to  the  floor, 
and  then  turned  quickly,  and  stepped  toward  the 
other  two.  O'Neill  and  the  admiral  both  rose  at 
the  same  time. 

She  was  en  grande  tenue,  her  hair  rolled  high  and 
powdered,  jewels  sparkling  about  the  snowy  throat, 
which  rose  from  the  pale  blue  silk  of  her  corsage. 

"It  is  — "  she  cried. 

"  The  Marquis  de  Richemont,  at  your  service, 
mademoiselle,"  O'Neill  interrupted  quickly,  bowing 
low  before  her,  fearing  lest  in  her  surprise  she  would 
betray  him. 

"  Good  heavens,  Elizabeth  !  what  is  the  meaning  of 
68 


MARQUIS   DE   RICHEMONT 

this?     Do  you  know  this  man?"  asked  the  admiral, 
in  great  astonishment. 

"  Every  traveller,"  smilingly  interrupted  O'Neill, 
suavely,  striving  to  give  Elizabeth  time  to  collect 
herself,  with  the  appearance  of  the  greatest  sang 
froid  himself,  though  his  heart  was  beating  so  rapidly 
he  could  scarce  maintain  his  composure,  "  on  these 
islands  has  heard  of  the  beauty  of  Lady  Elizabeth 
Howard.  Her  reputation  as  a  woman  of  charm  has 
even  extended  to  the  continent  whence  I  come.  It 
was  in  the  hope  of  having  the  privilege  of  seeing  her 
that  I  walked  up  toward  the  castle  this  evening.  I 
have  not  the  honor  of  her  acquaintance,  monsieur." 

"Do  you  know  this  man,  Elizabeth?"  persisted 
the  admiral,  sternly,  his  suspicions  aroused  by  her 
actions. 

There  was  evidently  some  mystery  about  his  com 
ing,  and  the  girl  was  quick  to  see  that  to  proclaim 
O'Neill's  name  and  occupation  would  probably  place 
him  in  an  embarrassing  position,  to  say  the  least. 
She  recovered  herself  by  a  great  effort,  and  turning 
away  languidly,  remarked  with  well-assumed  care 
lessness,  — 

"I?  Certainly  not,  sir.  I  have  never  heard  of 
the  Marquis  de  Richemont  before  in  my  life."  The 
statement  was  absolutely  correct,  the  Irishman's  rank 
having  been  kept  strictly  in  abeyance.  O'Neill 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  extended  his  hands  in 
confirmation  of  her  words. 

"Why  that  cry,  then,  and  your  surprise,  madam?" 
questioned  the  still  unconvinced  admiral. 

69 


THE  GRIP  OF   HONOR 

"  I  know  not,  sir ;  I  must  have  been  dreaming,  and 
the  sound  of  a  strange  voice  startled  me." 

"  Beg  pardon,  m'  Lud,"  said  the  sergeant,  saluting ; 
"yer  Worship,  he  axed  if  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard 
lived  'ere,  wen  he  was  down  in  the  courtyard." 

"  Silence,  sirrah  !  "  thundered  the  old  admiral,  who 
allowed  no  one  to  entertain  doubts  of  his  ward  but 
himself.  "  Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  Lady  Eliza 
beth  has  knowledge  of  this  gentleman?  " 

"  Oh,  sergeant !  "  said  the  girl,  clasping  her  hands 
and  looking  at  the  old  veteran  with  all  the  fascina 
tion  of  which  she  was  capable. 

"No,  yer  Ludship,  no,  sir.  O'  course  not;  cer 
tainly  not,  yer  Honor,"  returned  the  man,  in  great 
confusion.  "  I  spoke  by  way  o"  showin'  that 's  wot 
he  come  for." 

"  It  was  in  pursuance  of  my  desire  to  see  so  great 
a  beauty  that  I  asked  the  question,  monsieur." 

"Sir,  your  admiration  does  me  too  much  honor," 
said  Elizabeth,  courtesying. 

"  I  make  up  for  the  fact  that  your  reputation  does 
your  Ladyship  too  little,  then,  mademoiselle,"  he 
answered. 

"Enough  of  this,"  said  the  admiral,  impatiently. 
"The  girl  is  well  enough;  but  you  did  n't  come  here 
to  look  at  her,  did  you?  " 

"  On  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,  monsieur,  for  no 
other  purpose." 

"  Well,  give  some  account  of  yourself  otherwise, 
and  perhaps  if  it  be  satisfactory,  as  you  have  accom 
plished  that  purpose,  I  may  send  you  on  your  way 

70 


MARQUIS   DE   RICHEMONT 

rejoicing,"  said  the  admiral,  amused  at  the  extrava 
gance  of  the  young  man. 

"  No  man  could  leave  the  presence  of  Lady  Eliza 
beth  Howard  rejoicing,  sir." 

"  Damnation,  sir  !  "  cried  the  governor,  testily,  "are 
you  going  to  stand  here  and  bandy  compliments 
about  all  day  like  a  French  dancing-master?" 

"  I  have  nothing  further  to  urge  for  my  words,  my 
Lord,  when  my  excuse  stands  in  your  very  presence." 

The  governor  looked  at  the  two  young  people  in 
great  perplexity. 

"  I  fear,  my  dear  Marquis  de  Richemont,"  said  he 
ironically,  "  unless  you  can  give  some  more  coherent 
account  of  yourself,  I  shall  be  under  the  painful 
necessity  of  having  you  locked  up,  in  which  case  the 
only  divinity  you  will  be  allowed  to  gaze  upon  will 
be  the  lovely  face  and  figure  of  yonder  sergeant." 

"  Yes,  yer  Ludship,  I  —  "  remarked  the  sergeant, 
grimacing. 

"  Silence,  sirrah  !  "  thundered  the  admiral. 

"  My  Lord,"  answered  O'Neill,  smiling,  "  it  is  very 
simple.  I  am  an  officer  in  the  navy  of  the  King  of 
France,  making  a  tour  of  England  for  pleasure.  I 
came  here  to  this  town  this  evening.  I  hear  of  the 
great  admiral,  Lord  VVestbrooke,  in  his  great  castle, 
and  the  beauty  of  his  ward,  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard. 
I  am  a  lover  of  the  beautiful.  I  stand  on  the  cause 
way  gazing  at  the  castle.  Your  soldiers  arrest  me 
and  bring  me  here.  I  rejoice  to  find  Lady  Elizabeth 
more  beautiful  than  I  have  dreamed.  A  year  and  a 
half  have  only  intensified  her  charms." 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"A  year  and  a  half!  Dreams,  sir!  What  mean 
you  by  that,  pray?  What  have  the  years  to  do  with 
the  matter  ?  Did  you  see  her  a  year  and  a  half  since  ?  " 
cried  the  admiral,  suspiciously  again. 

O'Neill  started;  it  was  a  fatal  slip,  but  he  hastened 
to  repair  it  as  best  he  could. 

"  I  have  seen  her  picture,  sir." 

"  And  where,  pray,  have  you  seen  her  pic 
ture?" 

"  In  the  possession  of  an  English  officer,  a  friend 
of  mine  whom  I  met  at  Liverpool  a  year  and  a  half 
ago,"  answered  O'Neill,  audaciously. 

"  And  who  was  this  English  officer,  pray,  who 
displayed  my  picture?"  interrupted  Elizabeth,  with 
an  appearance  of  great  agitation. 

"  Major  Edward  Coventry,  mademoiselle." 

"Oh,  Edward!  Why,  God  bless  me,"  said  the 
admiral,  genially,  "  he  is  my  son.  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  you  are  a  friend  of  his?  Why  didn't  you 
say  so  before?" 

"  I  had  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance,"  said  O'Neill, 
bowing  gravely,  "  on  one  very  interesting  and 
memorable  occasion  indeed,  when  he  was  on  duty 
at  the  Chateau  Birkenhead,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  about  a  year  and  a  half  ago. 
Sir,  in  that  case  you  are  very  welcome  to  this  castle," 
said  the  admiral,  "  and  now  I  beg  leave  to  present  you 
in  due  and  proper  form  to  my  ward.  Lady  Eliza 
beth  Howard,  permit  me  to  introduce  to  you  the 
Marquis  de  Richemont." 

"  I  am  charmed  to  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
72 


MARQUIS   DE   RICHEMONT 

the  marquis,"  responded  the  girl,  smiling  and  courte- 
sying  deeply. 

"  The  pleasure  and  the  honor  are  mine,  mademoi 
selle,"  responded  O'Neill,  fully  entering  upon  the 
comedy  of  the  moment. 

"  And,"  continued  the  admiral,  "  as  my  son,  Major 
Edward  Coventry,  has  sent  me  word  he  will  be  here 
shortly,  you  can  renew  your  acquaintance  with 
him." 

It  was  as  if  he  had  exploded  a  bomb-shell  in  the 
room. 

"Edward!  Coming  here?"  cried  Elizabeth,  her 
voice  filled  with  terror  at  the  unfortunate  event,  which 
she  vainly  endeavored  to  conceal.  "What  for?  Why 
did  you  not  tell  me?" 

"  He  desired  to  surprise  you,  my  dear,"  answered 
the  admiral,  wondering  again  at  her  agitation  ;  "  you 
know  your  wedding  takes  place  next  week." 

"  Ah,  a  wedding  !  "  said  O'Neill,  starting  and  look 
ing  at  Elizabeth.  "Mademoiselle  is  then  to  marry?" 

"  Yes,  your  friend  Major  Coventry,"  replied  the 
old  man,  —  "an  old  engagement." 

"  I  refused  to  marry  him  for  a  year,  and  for  six 
months  more.  I  waited  all  that  time.  There  was  no 
word,"  she  said  slowly  to  O'Neill,  as  if  each  word 
were  wrung  from  her  by  his  intent  look,  her  pale 
cheeks  flooded  with  color. 

"  Have  you  taken  leave  of  your  senses,  Elizabeth?" 
continued  the  admiral,  in  great  surprise ;  "  of  what 
interest  to  a  stranger  is  your — er  —  maidenly 
hesitation  ?  " 

73 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  Anything  which  concerns  so  fair  a  lady  is  of  deep 
interest  to  your  humble  servant,"  answered  O'Neill, 
ironically  and  bitterly.  The  comedy  had  gone,  trag 
edy,  as  ever,  following  hard  upon  it. 

A  door  at  the  rear  of  the  room  was  opened  softly 
at  this  moment ;  and  a  young  man  in  the  brilliant  scar 
let  uniform  of  a  British  officer,  entered  and  stepped 
lightly  toward  them.  His  glance  fell  first  upon  the 
speaker. 

"  Barry  O'Neill,  by  heaven  !  "  he  exclaimed,  spring 
ing  eagerly  forward  with  outstretched  hand.  "  How 
came  you  here?"  For  a  moment  the  young  soldier 
was  oblivious  of  the  presence  of  his  father  and  his 
betrothed.  His  untimely  entrance  filled  the  room 
with  apprehension  and  dismay. 


74 


CHAPTER   IX 
The  Picture  on  the   Wall 


?  "  said  the  admiral,  in  much  bewilder- 
ment  ;  "  Edward,  this  is  your  friend,  the 
Marquis  de  Richemont. 

"  Edward,  do  not  speak  !  "  cried  Lady  Elizabeth, 
distractedly. 

"  Ah,  Elizabeth,  my  love  and  duty  to  you,  but  not 
speak?  About  what,  pray?  What  mean  you?  " 

"  Is  this  gentleman,  the  Marquis  de  Richemont, 
your  friend  or  not,  sir  ?  Cease  this  by-play,  Eliza 
beth  ;  I  will  have  an  explanation,"  demanded  the  now 
thoroughly  aroused  admiral. 

"My  friend?  Quite  so,"  said  Major  Coventry, 
smiling.  "  Though  I  was  ignorant  that  he  was  a 
marquis,  he  is  none  the  less  welcome.  I  am  exceed 
ingly  glad  to  see  him  again.  You  too,  I  presume, 
Elizabeth  ?  " 

"  Glad  even  as  you  are,"  she  replied  deliberately, 
now  seeing  that  further  concealment  was  useless. 

"  But  you  called  him  O'Neill,"  continued  the 
admiral. 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  said  O'Neill,  calmly,  re 
cognizing  the  uselessness  of  further  evasion.  "  I  am 
one  of  the  Irish  O'Neills,  formerly  of  County  Clare, 
now  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  France."  He 

75 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

could  not  have  said  it  more  proudly  had  he  been 
the  king  himself. 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  you,  you  were  on  the  Ranger, 
that  American  Continental  ship,"  continued  Coventry. 

"As  a  prisoner,  sir?"  cried  the  admiral. 

"  As  an  officer,  my  Lord,"  answered  the  Irishman. 

"What,  sir!     And  now  you  are  —  " 

"  Second  lieutenant  of  the  American  Continental 
ship  Bon  Homme  Richard,  Captain  John  Paul  Jones, 
at  your  service,"  was  the  dauntless  reply. 

"Good  gad!"  said  the  admiral,  "is  it  possible? 
And  you,  Elizabeth,  you  have  deceived  me  also. 
You  knew  this  man?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  not  as  the  Marquis  de  Richemont." 

"  You  have  met  this  gentleman  before?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Where,  may  I  ask,  and  when?" 

"  About  a  year  and  a  half  since,  sir.  You  re 
member  when  the  Maidstone  was  wrecked?  He 
saved  me  from  death  then,  and  after  Captain  Jones 
put  me  ashore,  you  know  — " 

"  He  spared  my  life  too,  as  well,  sir,  at  that  time," 
said  Coventry;  "  they  both  did." 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  good  hand  at  saving  lives, 
Lieutenant  O'Neill,  Marquis  de  Richemont,  perhaps 
you  can  think  now  of  some  way  of  saving  your  own," 
remarked  the  admiral,  sarcastically. 

"  'T  is  useless  to  me  now,  my  Lord,  and  not  worth 
the  saving,"  answered  the  young  man,  calmly ;  "  but  I 
would  not  have  you  mar  the  approaching  nuptials  of 
your  son  and  ward  by  an  execution.  Let  me  at 

76 


THE  PICTURE   ON   THE   WALL 

least  live  until  after  the  wedding.     I  shall  be  more 
willing  to  die  then,"  he  added  softly. 

"  You  came  here  for  what  purpose?  "  continued  the 
admiral,  disregarding  the  latter  words  of  the  young 
man  as  utterly  irrelevant. 

"  To  find  out  the  number  and  force  and  disposi 
tion  of  the  ships  in  the  harbor." 

"  At  the  instance  of —  " 

"  Captain  Jones,  sir." 

"  The  murdering  pirate  !  " 

"  I  have  resented  such  language  and  proved  its 
falsity  upon  the  person  of  your  son,  sir,"  burst  out 
O'Neill,  stepping  forward,  his  hand  upon  his  sword. 
"  Shall  I  impose  the  same  lesson  on  the  father?  " 

"  You  are  a  prisoner,  sir,"  replied  the  admiral,  im- 
perturbably,  "  and  are  here  at  my  pleasure  to  receive, 
not  to  give  lessons.  Stand  back,  sir !  Sergeant, 
bring  in  a  file  of  men  for  a  guard.  Deliver  up  your 
sword  at  once,  sir,  to  Major  Coventry ! " 

"  Your  Lordship  is  master  here ;  I  obey,"  answered 
the  Irishman,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  and  drawing 
his  sword,  he  tendered  it  to  Major  Coventry,  who 
stepped  forward  reluctantly  to  receive  it. 

"Father,"  he  said  respectfully,  "so  far  as  my 
knowledge  goes,  Captain  Jones  is  certainly  a  gentle 
man.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  magnanimity  and  that 
of  my  friend —  I  may  still  call  you  that,  sir?  " 

"  I  am  vastly  honored,  sir,  I  am  sure." 
"  —  my  friend,  the  Marquis  de  Richemont,  you 
would  be  childless  to-day.     Had  it  not  been  for  the 
courage  of  this  gentleman,  Lady  Elizabeth  here  —  " 

77 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  Oh,  sir !  "  cried  Elizabeth,  impetuously,  "  they 
are  men  of  honor.  I  pray  you  release  this  officer 
and  let  him  go  free.  Nay,  never  shake  your  head  ;  I 
ask  it  as  a  wedding  gift  to  me,  sir." 

"  My  liberty  your  wedding  gift,  mademoiselle? 
Never !  "  interrupted  O'Neill,  firmly. 

"  Say  no  more,  either  of  you,"  said  the  admiral, 
decisively.  "  You,  sir,  came  here  as  an  enemy, 
a  spy." 

"  Not  so,  sir.  I  came  here  in  the  uniform  of  a 
French  officer. " 

"  But  that  is  not  the  uniform  of  the  flag  under 
which  you  now  serve,"  continued  the  admiral,  keenly. 
"  You  may  secure  some  consideration,  however,  at 
my  hands  as  representing  his  Majesty  the  King,  God 
bless  him  !  by  revealing  the  circumstances  and  plans 
and  the  ultimate  purpose  of  your  rebellious  captain." 

"  Clearly  an  impossible  proposition,"  said  O'Neill, 
bowing. 

"  But  stop !  "  said  the  admiral,  "  now  that  I  recall 
it,  you  gave  me  your  word  of  honor  that  you  came 
here  to  see  this  lady." 

"  And  that  is  true,  sir.  I  might  have  escaped  to 
my  ship  with  ease,  in  possession  of  the  information 
I  desired  to  get,  but  I  came  up  to  the  castle  to  see 
her." 

"  A  most  foolish  excursion,  sir,  and  why,  pray?  " 

"  Because  I  love  her,"  said  O'Neill,  calmly. 

"  What !  "  cried  Coventry,  in  great  surprise  and 
dismay.  "  Did  you  know  this,  Elizabeth?  " 

"  Is  a  woman  ever  ignorant  of  the  feelings  she 
78 


THE   PICTURE   ON   THE  WALL 

excites  in  a  lover's  breast,   sir?"   O'Neill  answered 
for  her. 

"  And  have  you  —  did  you  —  "  continued  Coventry, 
looking  still  at  Elizabeth. 

"  Lady  Elizabeth  has  done  nothing,  sir.  No  word 
of  affection  has  ever  crossed  her  lips,  to  me  at  least," 
again  replied  O'Neill.  "  She  would  not  even  wait." 

"  Oh,  but  she  did,"  interrupted  Coventry,  jealously, 
"a  year  —  six  months  —  she  tried  to  postpone  her 
wedding  for  six  months  more.  I  begin  to  under 
stand." 

"  Peace,  Edward !  "  said  Elizabeth,  trembling 
violently;  "the  Marquis  de  Richemont  is  —  is 
nothing  to  me  —  can  never  be  anything  to  me,  that 
is.  The  wedding  shall  proceed  at  the  appointed 
date;  I  gave  you  my  word.  It  was  the  wish  of  my 
mother,  the  wish  of  the  admiral,  your  wish  —  " 

"And  yours,  also,  dearest  Elizabeth,  is  it  not?" 
said  Coventry,  taking  her  hand  entreatingly.  She 
hesitated  and  stood  silent. 

"  Have  me  executed  at  once,  sir,  in  mercy  and 
pity,"  said  O'Neill  to  the  admiral;  "let  it  be  now  — 
the  sooner  the  better.  This  I  cannot  stand  ;  't  is  too 
much." 

"  Not  so,"  replied  the  admiral,  gravely ;  "  I  will  con 
sider  the  matter  further  and  consult  with  you  again. 
Meanwhile,  if  you  will  give  me  your  parole,  I  will 
allow  you  the  freedom  of  the  castle." 

"  Parole  !  'T  is  given,  sir.  Eaith,  I  hardly  think 
you  could  drive  me  away." 

"  That 's  well,"  returned  the  admiral.     "  Sergeant, 
79 


THE   GRIP   OF  HONOR 

call  my  steward  and  have  him  assign  chambers  to  the 
Marquis  de  Richemont  Coventry,  I  presume  you 
will  place  your  wardrobe  at  his  disposal  in  case  he 
needs  anything.  Now  the  marquis  will  doubtless 
wish  to  retire.  We  will  see  him  in  the  morning. 
Come,  Elizabeth.  Good-night,  sir;  the  sergeant  will 
attend  you." 

"  Lord  Westbrooke,  I  thank  you.  Major  Cov 
entry,  your  servant.  Lady  Elizabeth,  I  wish  you 
joy  on  your  wedding;  good-night,"  replied  the  young 
man,  bowing  to  them  all  in  succession. 

As  the  admiral  and  the  others  left  the  room,  the 
young  lieutenant  sank  down  on  his  chair  and  put 
his  head  upon  his  hands  upon  the  table.  The  old 
sergeant,  who  had  seen  it  all,  watched  him  a  moment 
in  silence.  Walking  up  to  him  finally,  and  laying 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder  with  the  familiarity  of  a 
privileged  character,  he  said, — 

"  Come  now,  sir,  be  a  soldier." 

"  You  can  give  no  worse  advice  than  that  to  a 
sailor,  my  friend,"  replied  O'Neill,  rising  and  smiling 
in  spite  of  his  misery.  "  Lead  on,  I  will  follow,"  he 
added. 

As  they  passed  down  the  great  hall,  the  eyes  of 
the  wretched  lieutenant  fell  upon  a  large  picture 
hanging  rather  low  on  the  wall  in  a  far  corner  above 
a  dais  near  the  doorway.  It  was  the  portrait  of  a 
beautiful  woman  in  the  fashion  of  some  fifty  years 
back.  She  was  seated  in  a  great  carved  oak  chair, 
the  counterpart  of  and  evidently  painted  from  one 
sitting  beneath  it.  In  face  and  feature  the  portrait 

So 


THE  PICTURE   ON   THE   WALL 

was  a  striking  likeness  of  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard. 
The  skill  of  the  painter  had  been  so  great,  the  colors 
had  been  so  nicely  chosen,  so  delicately  laid  on,  that 
in  the  flickering,  uncertain  candle-light,  which  left  this 
part  of  the  room  in  a  rather  deep  shadow,  the  picture 
actually  seemed  to  breathe.  O'Neill  stopped  as  if 
petrified. 

"  Come  along,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant,  gruffly. 

"  A  moment,  if  you  please,  my  friend  —  a 
moment.  What  sort  of  a  man  are  you  to  pass  by 
such  as  this  without  notice?  It  should  be  Lady 
Elizabeth,  but  the  fashion  of  the  dress  —  " 

"  It 's  her  mother,  sir,  a  cousin  of  the  admiral's. 
I  pass  it  every  day,  sir,  an'  I  've  got  so  I  don't  take 
no  notice  on  it,  no  more.  She  was  a  young  thing, 
scarce  older  than  her  young  Leddyship  when  she  set 
for  that  paintin',  an'  they  had  no  children  for  years, 
leastaways  they  all  died  till  this  baby  was  born,  an' 
then  she  died  too.  I  Ve  been  attached  to  the  ad 
miral's  service  in  one  way  or  another  sence  I  was  a 
boy,  an'  dandled  her  many  a  time  on  my  knee.  Yes, 
and  her  young  Leddyship,  Lady  Elizabeth  that  is, 
too,  wen  she  was  a  little  girl." 

"  My  regard  for  you  goes  up  a  thousand-fold,  my 
friend,"  said  O'Neill,  smiling;  "I  could  almost  envy 
you  your  opportunities.  Would  I  had  been  you !  " 

"  'T  ain't  no  use  wishin'  that,"  said  the  old  sergeant, 
shaking  his  head;  "there  never  was  no  Frenchman 
could  ever  take  my  place." 

"  Quite  right,"  replied  O'Neill,  smiling;  "  'twould 
be  clearly  impossible." 

6  8.t 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  Come  along,  then,  yer  Honor." 

"  Stay  a  moment,"  returned  the  enraptured  Irish 
man  ;  "  a  year  at  gaze  would  not  sate  me  with  the 
beauty  of  this  picture.  How  like  is  the  fair  image  !  " 
murmured  the  entranced  young  man,  approaching 
nearer  and  fairly  holding  his  breath  under  the  influ 
ence  of  the  moment.  He  stretched  out  his  hand 
toward  the  painting  with  a  little  reverential  gesture. 

"  Look  out,  sir  !  "  said  the  sergeant,  warningly ;  "the 
picture  hangs  very  loose,  an'  the  frame  — 

What  evil  fate  was  it  that  determined  its  fall  at 
that  moment?  There  was  a  tremendous  crash,  some 
thing  gave  way,  and  the  great  frame  dropped  from 
its  place  on  the  wall  and  fell  across  the  heavy  oaken 
chair  which  stood  beneath  it,  and  the  picture  was 
impaled  upon  its  Gothic  points.  The  two  men 
sprang  to  seize  it  and  lift  it  up.  Alas  !  it  had  been 
literally  torn  to  pieces.  The  canvas  had  evidently 
been  originally  a  defective  one,  for  it  had  split  in 
every  direction.  Restoration  was  clearly  impossible. 

"  Good  Heaven  !  "  said  the  Irishman,  "  what  a  mis 
fortune  !  " 

"  It  had  to  come,  an'  it 's  too  late  to  be  mended 
now,"  said  the  sergeant,  philosophically,  "  so  we 
must  get  on." 

"  Very  good,"  said  O'  Neill,  tenderly  lifting  the 
frame,  with  the  rags  of  the  tattered  canvas  hanging  to 
it,  back  against  the  wall ;  "  there  is  nothing  to  keep 
us  here  now.  Unlucky  fool  that  I  am,  even  the  sem 
blance  of  the  original  is  not  for  me !  " 

82 


CHAPTER   X 

Lady  Elizabeth  will  keep  her  Word 

THE  night  fell  on  three  of  the  most  unhappy 
people  in  the  world;  yet  to  each  had  been 
vouchsafed  a  partial  realization  of  a  cherished  hope. 
Coventry  should  have  been  luxuriating  in  the 
thought  of  his  approaching  marriage  to  the  girl  he 
loved;  Elizabeth  should  have  been  overwhelmed 
with  joy  at  the  reappearance  of  O'Neill,  after  his 
long  absence;  and  O'Neill  during  that  time  had 
asked  for  nothing  but  an  opportunity  to  stand  once 
more  in  the  presence  of  his  divinity.  The  desire 
of  each  had  been  granted,  and  yet  all  three  were 
completely  miserable. 

Coventry,  because  he  more  than  suspected  that 
Elizabeth  loved  O'Neill;  Elizabeth,  because  she 
felt  that  honor  compelled  her  to  marry  Coventry,  to 
whom  she  was  deeply  attached,  but  toward  whom 
her  feelings,  she  now  found,  were  vastly  different 
from  those  which  had  flooded  her  being  with  new 
life  at  the  sight  of  the  young  Irishman.  Her  period 
of  waiting  and  dreaming  had  unconsciously  developed 
a  passion  for  him  which  had  broken  all  barriers  at 
the  mere  sound  of  his  voice,  the  sight  of  his  face. 
As  for  O'Neill,  he  found  her  fairer  than  he  had  ever 
thought  even  in  his  most  extravagant  dreams,  and 

83 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

it  was  in  an  agony  of  despair  that  he  contemplated 
her  as  the  bride  of  another.  There  was  this  saving 
grace  in  his  position,  however:  he  would  probably  be 
condemned  to  death  forthwith,  and  he  was  in  no 
mood  to  balk  the  executioner;  if  ever  death  be  wel 
come,  it  would  be  so  to  him. 

The  only  one  who  was  completely  at  his  ease,  and 
who,  in  fact,  extracted  a  certain  satisfaction  from 
the  situation,  was  the  admiral.  Naturally  he  did 
not  enter  very  deeply  into  the  matrimonial  schemes 
of  the  young,  and  with  the  indifference  of  the  aged 
and  the  present,  he  doubted  that  it  would  be  a 
matter  of  any  great  difficulty  either  to  make  Eliza 
beth  forget,  if  necessary,  the  Irishman  in  whom  even 
his  obtuse  vision  had  detected  that  she  was  greatly 
interested;  or,  in  case  it  suited  his  purpose  better, 
to  make  his  son  forget  Elizabeth  in  the  presence  of 
some  other  charmer  whom  he  might  select.  Plis 
purpose  was,  as  ever,  the  paramount  consideration 
with  the  admiral. 

He  had  conceived  a  brilliant  idea,  which  he  fondly 
hoped  would  result,  were  it  to  be  realized,  in  the 
capture  of  the  notorious  Paul  Jones,  who  was  the 
object  of  consuming  desire  on  the  part  of  every 
military  and  naval  man  in  the  three  kingdoms.  So 
enchanted  was  the  old  man  with  his  own  idea,  and 
so  desirous  was  he  of  bagging  the  game,  that  he 
would  not  have  hesitated  to  sacrifice  the  affections 
of  his  son,  the  happiness  of  his  ward,  or  to  brush 
aside  almost  anything,  save  his  honor,  which  might 
stand  in  his  way. 

84 


LADY   ELIZABETH 

The  young  Irishman  had  clearly  forfeited  his  life 
by  his  action;  nay,  more,  n;vw  that  he  recalled  his 
name  he  remembered  that  he  had  been  found  guilty 
of  high  treason,  and,  like  his  father,  was  under 
sentence  of  death  for  that  as  well;  he  had  a  double 
hold  upon  him,  therefore.  The  powers  of  the  admiral, 
who  was  one  of  the  leading  men  of  the  realm,  were 
unusually  large,  and  as  a  state  of  martial  law  had 
been  proclaimed  on  the  coast,  he  was  supreme  as  to 
life  and  death,  in  matters  where  any  military  exi 
gency  could  be  urged. 

He  chuckled  to  himself  at  the  thought  that  he 
held  in  his  hand  two  of  the  master  cards,  —  love  of  life 
and  love  of  woman ;  the  third,  love  of  honor,  which 
O'Neill  was  possessed  of,  was  a  high  one,  to  be 
sure,  but  he  trusted  by  clever  play  to  win  the  game, 
since  the  odds  were  with  him.  Elizabeth  had  be 
come  a  State  paper  —  a  pledge  in  pawn  —  to  him; 
O'Neill  another  piece,  or  player.  He  had  not  yet 
formulated  any  plan  for  carrying  out  his  great  idea, 
but  one  was  already  germinating  in  his  mind,  so 
that  in  the  end,  under  the  stimulus  of  the  splendid 
opportunity  he  saw  before  him  for  rounding  out  an 
already  brilliant  career  in  the  service  of  his  country, 
by  effecting  the  capture  of  the  famous  Paul  Jones, 
his  hours  were  as  sleepless  as  were  those  of  the 
others. 

The  poor  Irish  lieutenant  had  caused  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  to  every  one  with  whom  he  had  come  in 
contact.  Even  Paul  Jones  himself,  who  loved  and 
cherished  the  young  man  with  all  his  generous  heart, 

85 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

was  filled  with  deep  anxiety  as  to  his  probable  fate, 
when  he  heard  the  report  of  old  Price  the  next  day, 
especially  as  the  hours  fled  away  and  his  lieutenant 
did  not  rejoin  the  ship.  In  spite  of  the  absence  of 
the  rest  of  his  squadron,  the  commodore  at  once 
hastened  to  the  rendezvous  with  the  Richard  alone, 
and  there  determined  to  take  a  small  hand  in  the 
game  himself  while  waiting  for  the  Pallas,  the 
Alliance,  and  the  others  to  assemble.  Cautious 
inquiries  which  he  caused  to  be  made  on  shore  had 
informed  him  that,  as  he  expected,  O'Neill  had 
been  apprehended.  A  less  kindly  man  than  Paul 
Jones  would  have  left  him  to  his  fate — but  that 
was  not  his  way. 

Early  the  next  morning,  being  Wednesday,  Sep 
tember  the  twenty-second,  O'Neill  had  arisen  and 
gone  down  on  the  terrace  of  the  castle  overlooking 
the  ocean  and  the  ships  in  the  harbor,  where  he  met 
Lady  Elizabeth.  She  was  gazing  listlessly  over  the 
causeway  at  a  horseman  galloping  along  the  road. 

"Do  I  interrupt  reminiscences  of  a  tete-d-tete, 
madam  ? "  said  he,  saluting  her  with  a  profound 
bow. 

"Reminiscences  such  as  mine  are  better  inter 
rupted,"  she  replied. 

"  You  were  —  " 

"  Saying  good-bye  to  my  —  my  —  cousin. " 

"  Has  your  ladyship  no  dearer  title  than  that  by 
which  to  designate  him  ?  " 

"Not  yet,"  she  answered  wearily. 

"Ah,  I  perceive,"  he  continued  jealously,  "the 
86 


LADY   ELIZABETH 

natural  regret  at  the  absence  of  your  betrothed, 
for  —  " 

"  No,  no,  not  that !  How  can  you  trifle  so  with 
me  at  this  moment?  He  reproached  me  because  I 
—  why  do  I  tell  you  these  things?  You  constrain 
me,  sir;  I  - 

"Forgive  me;  you  need  not  finish,  Lady  Eliza 
beth,"  he  said  with  a  sudden  gravity.  "As  for  me, 
I  must  needs  trifle,  or  die.  Life  in  the  freshness  of 
the  morning,  the  white-capped  ocean  stretching 
before  us  in  the  sunlight,  the  gentle  breeze  playing 
across  our  faces,  is  sweet  to  think  on;  with  youth 
and  rank  and  station,  it  would  be  heavenly  spent 
with  you.  Without  you  I  welcome  the  death  your 
guardian  will  undoubtedly  inflict  upon  me." 

"  Yet  you  waited  so  long  —  a  year  and  a  half  — 
why  did  you  not  come?  I  —  "  She  stopped.  She 
had  spoken  in  a  low,  tender  whisper,  looking  down 
at  the  sea  beneath  them,  and  plucking  nervously  at 
the  loose  plaster  of  the  old  walk.  Death  so  immi 
nent  for  love  and  lover  —  nay,  not  for  love;  that 
were  eternal  —  broke  down  petty  convention.  Where 
were  death  and  love,  there,  too,  should  truth  and 
honesty  be  —  and  honor. 

He  laid  his  strong  hand  gently  down  on  the  small 
white  one  outlined  upon  the  gray  weather-beaten 
rock  of  the  parapet;  with  upturned  palm  she  met 
his  grasp.  Her  eyes  were  lifted  now;  she  drew 
strength  from  his  strength;  a  dawning  hope  flickered 
into  being  in  her  torn  heart.  He  was  so  strong  and 
true,  he  surely  could  do  something  —  there  must  be 

87 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

some  other  way.     It  was  the  tribute  woman  pays  to 
man. 

He  read  aright,  with  eyes  keen  from  affection,  the 
mute,  piteous  appeal  in  her  sweetly  lifted  face.  But 
he  could  only  smile  sadly  in  answer,  with  a  silent 
shake  of  the  head.  There  was  no  other  way,  then, 
in  the  marked  path  she  must  walk.  Have  mercy, 
Lord! 

"  Was  it  long  to  you,  dearest  ? "  he  queried,  his 
dark  face  aflame.  "  To  me  —  I  have  been  a  fool. 
Nothing  should  have  kept  me  from  you.  To  trust 
to  messengers,  letters  —  a  fool —  too  late ! "  Silence. 
The  hands  unclasped;  ties  were  broken.  "Too 
late ! "  He  turned  bitterly  away. 

"  Would  that  we  had  met  in  happier  days ! "  she 
murmured  sadly,  making  a  brave  effort  at  self- 
control. 

"No  reproaches,  Lady  Elizabeth,"  he  answered, 
the  touch  of  formality  in  the  address  showing  his 
own  equal  strife.  "What  must  be,  must  be!  At 
least  I  have  met  you  before  I  die,  and  for  a  year  and 
a  half  I  have  thought  of  you,  and  dreamed  of  you, 
and  held  you  the  lady  of  my  heart.  E'en  death 
itself  cannot  rob  me  of  that  sweet  joy  —  for  it  is 
past." 

They  looked  apart,  and  heard  above  the  voice  of 
the  great  deep,  the  unfathomable  sound  of  the  moan 
ing  surge  far  beneath  them,  chafing  against  the 
pebbles  in  the  still  morning,  the  wild  beating  of 
their  hearts;  after  a  little  pause  he  continued  more 
softly,  — 

88 


LADY   ELIZABETH 

"And  you  —  you  will  forget  the  young  Irishman, 
the  soldier  of  fortune,  whom  untoward  fate  threw 
across  your  pathway;  and  in  your  own  English  home, 
and  in  the  love  of  your  noble  husband,  may  you  be 
happy." 

"Nay,  not  so,"  she  said  softly,  taking  his  hand 
again,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears;  this  time  she  was 
the  stronger.  "  My  heart  is  not  made  of  such  fickle 
stuff.  I  shall  do  my  duty,  keep  my  plighted  word 
—  even  you  would  have  me  do  no  less  than  that  — 
but  not  more  steadfastly  than  I  shall  keep  you  within 
my  recollection.  But  do  not  talk  of  death,  you  must 
not ;  I  know  the  admiral  —  he  has  a  kindly  heart  — 

"  I  would  not  live,"  replied  the  young  man,  quietly, 
"for  life  is  death  when  the  heart  is  dead." 

"Tell  me,"  asked  the  girl,  nervously  breaking  the 
almost  insupportable  silence,  "were  you  there  when 
my  mother's  picture  fell  last  night?" 

"Yes,  so  near  to  it  that  it  almost  fell  into  my 
arms,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"  A  bad  omen  ! "  she  murmured,  shaking  her  head. 

"  What,  that  it  should  fall  into  my  arms  ?  " 

"No,  that  it  should  fall  at  all." 

"Well,  I  do  not  believe  in  omens,  and  'tis  in  the 
arms  of  another  that  you  fall,  at  any  rate.  He  gets 
the  substance,  I  the  shadow,  the  illusion — and  even 
that  is  broken ! " 

"And  so  even  the  shadow  is  lost,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Not  yet.  Open  my  heart,  you  will  find  it  there," 
he  answered  quickly.  "But  how  like  you  the  por 
trait  was ! " 

89 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

"Yes,  I  am  said  to  look  like  my  mother,"  she  an 
swered,  striving,  as  we  all  do  in  tragic  moments,  to 
reach  the  height  of  the  commonplace.  "In  the 
dress  I  now  wear,  under  the  changing  fashions,  the 
likeness  is  not  so  striking;  but  when  I  am  gowned 
as  she  was,  in  the  identical  costume,  which  is  still 
in  existence,  by  the  way,  and  sit  as  she  did,  in  the 
dim  light  in  that  old  chair,  the  resemblance  is  even 
more  striking." 

"Would  that  I  might  see  you  thus  —  in  that  dress 
of  the  olden  time !  Nothing  except  your  actual 
presence  in  the  hall  has  ever  startled  me  so  much  as 
that  image  of  the  past  did  last  night.  You  are  so 
like  the  picture,  but  more  beautiful,  I  think." 

"Ah,  yes,  youth  and  the  present  are  always  the 
more  beautiful.  The  admiral  says  I  am  not  to  be 
mentioned  beside  her  —  he  loved  her,  I  think  —  she 
was  his  cousin ;  they  tell  me  she  married  very  young, 
unhappily,  too,  and  died  when  I  was  born,  many 
years  after.  My  father,  too,  died ;  I  can  scarcely 
remember  him  at  all;  I  am  alone." 

"Therfe  should  be  a  warning  in  this,  should  there 
not  ? "  he  asked  softly ;  an  idle  question,  fate  had 
determined. 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  girl,  wearily;  "but 
what  was  I  to  do?  The  arrangement  was  made 
when  I  was  a  child.  I  have  grown  up  with  Edward 
Coventry,  he  loves  me,  he  is  a  noble  fellow,  I 
respect  —  esteem  him  highly.  It  is  a  long-cherished 
wish  of  the  admiral's;  it  was  my  mother's  wish  as 
well.  I  put  him  off,  in  spite  of  the  engagement,  for 

90 


LADY  ELIZABETH  - 

a  year  —  for  six  months  again,"  she  said,  with  a 
glance  the  fond  reproach  of  which  cut  him  to  the 
heart.  "  I  promised  him,  on  my  word  of  honor,  if 
he  would  only  wait  that  time  I  would  make  no 
further  objections.  I  cannot  break  that  word  now." 

"Not  even  for  me?" 

"No,  not  even  for  you." 

"  But  you  do  not  love  him  ? "  he  asked    eagerly. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  slowly;  "I  do  —  in  a  way, 
that  is." 

"But  not  like  —  " 

"Enough,  Lieutenant  O'Neill!"  she  answered 
proudly,  resuming,  perforce,  her  erstwhile  haughty 
air,  which  was  belied  by  a  deep  flush  on  her  cheeks. 
" 'T  is  not  generous  of  you  to  press  me  further.  I 
—  we  have  decided.  I  can  stand  no  more.  For 
give  me  —  Have  mercy ! " 

"I  respect  your  decision;  nay,  more,  I  honor  you 
for  it,  Lady  Elizabeth,"  he  answered  gravely.  "I 
kiss  your  hand  and  go  to  my  death  smiling.  Forget 
me." 

"  Your  death!  "  she  cried  in  alarm.  "What  mean 
you  ?  " 

"The  admiral,  sir,  would  speak  with  you  in  the 
office  at  once,"  interrupted  the  sergeant,  who  had 
approached  with  a  file  of  soldiers. 

"You  see — the  summons,"  replied  O'Neill, 
calmly,  to  Elizabeth.  "Friend,  I  attend  you  — 
good-bye. " 


CHAPTER  XI 
O'Neill  will  keep  his  Honor 

THE  admiral  had  fully  matured  his  plans  during 
the  night,  and  was  prepared  to  make  the 
assault  upon  the  fortifications  of  O'Neill's  honor  at 
the  most  convenient  season.  In  order  to  have  a  clear 
field  for  his  operations,  he  had  despatched  his  son 
upon  an  errand  which  would  necessitate  his  absence 
until  the  evening.  It  had  been  with  his  full  knowl 
edge  that  his  captive  had  been  allowed  to  meet  and 
converse  with  his  ward.  He  trusted  more  to  the  fas 
cinations  of  that  young  woman  to  effect  his  end,  than 
to  any  other  known  agency,  in  fact. 

Beauty  and  affection  when  allied  have  ever  been 
most  potent  weapons,  even  when  used  to  promote  the 
cause  of  treachery  and  dishonor.  Not  that  the  admi 
ral  himself  would  have  done  anything  he  considered 
dishonorable.  He  would  rather  have  cut  off  his  right 
hand,  which  had  done  such  stout  service  for  his  king, 
he  would  sacrifice  his  life,  his  son's  life,  anything, 
rather  than  jeopard  it ;  but  he  would  not  hesitate  to 
cajole  the  young  Irishman  into  betraying  his  leader 
if  he  could.  Though  he  should  despise  him  if  he 
acceded  to  the  terms  he  would  propose,  yet  he  would 
not  refrain  from  making  use  of  him,  even  to  his  own 
undoing,  if  possible.  'Twas  the  custom  of  war,  and 

92 


O'NEILL  WILL   KEEP   HIS   HONOR 

the  obloquy  which  in  similar  instances  has  ever  been 
heaped  upon  the  tempted  has  not  seemed  to  attach 
itself  to  the  tempter  under  such  conditions. 

Still  the  admiral  did  not  rejoice  in  the  situation, 
and  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  just  how  much  it 
was  necessary  to  offer.  He  had  rather  an  uncom 
fortable  feeling  that  he  could  go  very  far,  and  then 
not  succeed  after  all ;  yet  the  greatness  of  the  stake 
for  which  he  played,  he  thought,  would  justify  his 
action,  for  the  person  of  John  Paul  Jones  was  cer 
tainly  more  coveted  than  that  of  any  other  man  who 
had  ever  warred  against  the  English  flag.  The  gov 
ernor  had  under  his  immediate  command  two  excel 
lent  frigates,  the  Scrapis,  44,  and  the  Scarborough, 
28;  and  if  through  his  planning  and  foresight  they 
should  capture  Jones  and  his  ships,  he  might  aspire 
to  any  honor  in  the  gift  of  the  king. 

"  Good-morning,  my  dear  marquis,"  he  said  pleas 
antly,  as  soon  as  the  young  lieutenant  was  ushered 
into  the  office. 

"  Good-morning  to  your  Lordship,"  answered 
O'Neill,  bravely. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you  to  give  you  the  run  of  the 
castle  to-day,"  continued  the  admiral,  much  to  his 
prisoner's  surprise.  "  I  shall  be  occupied  with  prepa 
rations  rendered  necessary  by  the  advent  of  your 
friends  the  Americans,  and  urgent  business  required 
that  I  despatch  your  acquaintance,  my  son,  on  an 
errand  which  will  keep  him  away  until  evening. 
Meanwhile,  I  leave  you  to  the  tender  mercies  of  my 
ward,  the  Lady  Elizabeth.  In  the  evening  I  shall 

93 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

have  something  of  great  importance  to  say  to  you. 
You  will  give  me  your  parole,  of  course,  and  I  trust 
that  you  may  have  a  pleasant  day." 

"  In  the  presence  of  Lady  Elizabeth,  sir,  all  mo 
ments  are  hours  of  pleasure.  I  can  never  sufficiently 
thank  you  for  your  indulgence.  You  have  crowned 
the  victim  with  a  chaplet  of  roses  before  offering  him 
upon  the  altar,"  answered  the  bewildered  officer.  He 
suspected  something ;  but  in  the  thought  of  another 
day  with  his  heart's  desire,  he  resolutely  put  aside  all 
other  things  —  one  day,  in  the  strain  of  life,  so  much 
gained ! 

"  Never  mind  about  the  altar  now,"  said  the  admi 
ral.  "  Enjoy  the  day,  and  perhaps  the  termination  of 
it  may  fit  its  beginning." 

Such  a  day  as  the  two  young  people  passed  to 
gether  comes  not  often  in  earthly  calendars.  There 
was  one  subject  which  was  forbidden  them  by  honor 
and  discretion.  They  therefore  talked  of  other 
things  and  thought  only  of  that,  and  the  restraint  in 
which  each  was  held  made  their  true  opinions  as 
open  to  each  other  as  the  day  itself.  They  wandered 
together  about  the  castle  walls,  gazed  out  upon  the 
sparkling  sea,  and  allowed  themselves  to  dream  that 
the  day  would  never  end.  They  forgot  the  black 
future,  and  lived  only  in  the  fleeting  moments  of  the 
present;  'tis  the  habit  of  youth  and  love. 

When  the  night  fell  they  separated  reluctantly,  to 
meet  again  by  her  appointment  in  half  an  hour  in 
the  great  hall,  for  what  reason  he  knew  not ;  that  she 
wished  it  was  sufficient  for  him.  There  had  come 

94 


O'NEILL  WILL  KEEP   HIS   HONOR 

into  Elizabeth's  head  a  quaint  conceit.  She  wished 
to  surprise  him.  As  she  left  him  she  ran  hastily  to 
the  ancient  wardrobe  in  her  private  apartment  in 
which,  with  the  prudent  forethought  of  our  ancestors, 
her  mother's  wedding  robe  was  laid  away  in  sprigs 
of  lavender.  Hastily  doffing  her  own  garments,  and 
assisted  by  the  skilful  fingers  of  her  maid,  she  arrayed 
herself  therein. 

The  body  of  the  dress  was  of  heavily  brocaded 
white  satin,  worn  over  moderate  hoops ;  the  bodice 
was  cut  low  and  square  across  the  neck  and  shoulders 
and  terminated  in  a  pointed  stomacher  of  delicate 
pale  blue,  laced  over  the  front  with  silver  cord.  The 
short,  rather  full  sleeves  edged  with  priceless  lace  left 
the  sweet  young  arms  bare  to  the  dimpled  elbow. 
The  overdress  or  panier,  looped  with  gold  cord  on 
either  side,  was  of  a  fugitive  shade  of  pale  wild  rose ; 
the  dress  was  lifted  in  front  to  show  her  dainty  feet  in 
their  diamond-buckled,  preposterously  high-heeled, 
pointed-toed,  blue  satin  shoes,  and  rose-colored,  gold- 
clocked  stockings.  When  she  stood  up,  a  little  train 
swept  the  floor. 

The  old-fashioned  waist  of  the  gown  was  very 
decollete ' ;  she  blushed  at  the  thought  of  it ;  but  as  it 
was  in  the  picture,  she  draped  it  with  delicate  tulle, 
less  white  than  her  neck  itself,  and  caught  here 
and  there  by  tiny  diamond  stars,  and  so  she  put  it 
bravely  on.  To  re-dress  her  hair  was  an  easy  matter; 
the  low  coiffure,  with  the  hair  unpowdered  and 
rolled  above  her  broad,  low  brow,  after  the  style  of 
the  beautiful  but  venal  Pompadour,  and  adorned 

9J5 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

with  three  delicate  white  ostrich  tips,  and  with  a 
string  of  pearls  intertwined  in  its  meshes,  was  most 
becoming.  With  eager  hands  rummaging  among 
her  mother's  jewels,  she  soon  found  and  twined  the 
brilliant  necklace  of  the  picture  about  her  throat; 
on  her  breast  she  pinned  a  great  sunburst  of  dia 
monds,  in  the  midst  of  which  flashed  a  gleaming 
sapphire.  A  little  black  patch  or  two  on  her  cheeks 
completed  her  preparations. 

Then,  full  of  anticipation  for  her  lover,  she  ran 
down  to  the  hall.  To  her  great  disappointment,  the 
room  was  empty;  he  had  not  yet  come.  She  waited 
a  moment;  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  frame  from  which 
the  remnants  of  the  tattered  painting  had  been 
removed,  which  was  leaning  on  a  dais  in  front  of 
an  alcove  against  the  wall,  just  beneath  the  spot 
where  the  picture  had  hung.  A  new  thought  oc 
curred  to  her.  Why  not  ?  She  eagerly  pushed  the 
old  chair  behind  the  frame,  arranged  it  as  it  had 
been  in  the  picture,  and  sat  down  in  exactly  the 
same  position  her  mother  had  assumed  when  the 
portrait  had  been  painted.  She  had  often  practised 
it  before  the  mirror,  and  had  acquired  the  pose 
perfectly. 

The  rich,  dark  old  tapestry  of  Arras  formed  an 
appropriate  background,  and  life  and  love  and  expec 
tation  threw  a  light  in  her  eyes  and  painted  upon 
her  cheek  hues  that  no  skill,  however  cunning,  could 
have  duplicated,  no  palette  save  that  of  Nature  in 
her  rarest  mood  supplied.  The  girl  had  forgotten, 
for  the  moment,  her  engagement  to  another;  she 

96 


O'NEILL  WILL   KEEP   HIS   HONOR 

had  forgotten  the  impending  fate  which  hung  over 
the  man  she  truly  loved.  She  was  only  a  woman  — 
loving  —  beloved  —  waiting.  The  thought  of  his 
surprise,  the  consciousness  of  her  own  beauty, 
deepened  the  color  on  her  cheeks,  and  the  palpi 
tation  of  her  bosom  told  of  the  beating  of  her 
heart. 

She  looked  hastily  about  her,  and,  as  the  door 
opened,  settled  herself  in  the  position  of  sweet 
repose  of  the  picture.  Never  had  earth  borne  a  fairer 
woman.  The  first  sound  that  struck  her  ear  was 
the  somewhat  harsh  voice  of  her  guardian.  A  wave 
of  disappointment  swept  across  her.  She  half  rose, 
as  if  to  discover  herself,  and  then,  as  she  heard  her 
lover's  voice,  she  sank  back  and  waited,  motionless 
and  expectant. 

"Lieutenant  Barry  O'Neill,  Marquis  de  Riche- 
mont,  I  bid  you  good  evening,"  said  the  admiral, 
genially. 

"Sir,  good  evening  to  you,"  replied  O'Neill, 
something  warning  him  of  an  impending  struggle. 

"Allow  me,"  said  the  admiral,  passing  his  snuff 
box,  from  which  both  gentlemen  helped'  themselves 
elaborately. 

"I  have  here,"  continued  the  old  man,  drawing  a 
piece  of  paper  from  the  desk  as  they  walked  toward 
the  centre  of  the  room,  neither  of  them  noticing  the 
picture  at  the  moment,  as  it  was  behind  them, 
"some  account  of  the  life  and  adventures  of  one 
Gerald  O'Neill,  sometime  gentleman  of  the  County 
Clare  in  Ireland,  who  rebelled  against  his  gracious 
7  97 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

Majesty  King  George  II.,  of  blessed  memory,  in 
the  year  1745.  His  lands  were  escheated  to  the 
crown,  his  life  forfeited.  Unfortunately  for  us,  and 
fortunately  for  him,  he  escaped  to  the  continent, 
entered  the  service  of  Louis  XV.,  and  became  —  " 

"You  may  spare  me  any  further  details,  my  Lord. 
I  know  them  too  well.  He  became  a  marshal  of 
France  and  my  father. " 

"Two  great  honors,  surely,"  said  the  admiral, 
smiling  pleasantly. 

"I  thank  your  Lordship  for  the  compliment;  pray 
proceed." 

"I  have  here,  also,  a  brief  account  of  the  history 
of  another  gentleman  in  whom  I  doubt  not  you  are 
deeply  interested." 

"And  that  is  —  " 

"One  Barry  O'Neill,  Marquis  de  Richemont." 

"Your  very  humble  servant,  sir." 

"Your  discrimination  does  you  honor,  marquis," 
said  the  admiral,  playfully. 

"Faith,  sir,  you  read  me  an  easy  riddle." 

"I  find  that  you  have  been  concerned  in  every 
treasonable  plot  against  his  Majesty  which  has 
been  hatched  on  the  continent  since  you  were  out  of 
leading  strings." 

"Rather  hard,  but  true,  sir.  An  Irishman,  you 
know,  is  naturally  a  rebel  and  a  conspirator." 

"  Quite  so ;  and  those  who  are  not  drowned  may 
expect  to  be  hanged,"  said  the  admiral,  sternly. 

"As  I  am  a  sailor,  I  might  reasonably  have  hoped 
for  the  former  end,  but  I  have  forfeited  my  rights  by 

98 


O'NEILL  WILL  KEEP   HIS   HONOR 

coming  on  shore,  I  suppose."  He  paused,  and  as 
the  admiral  nodded  gravely,  he  continued  with 
well-simulated  indifference:  "'Tis  not  a  pleasant 
mode  of  death,  my  Lord,  nor  one  that  I  would  have 
chosen,  nor  one  that  is  becoming  a  gentleman;  but  I 
trust  I  shall  meet  it  with  equanimity  at  least," 
replied  O'Neill,  a  little  paler  than  before,  but  still 
dauntlessly  smiling. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  a  man  of  such 
resolution,  sir,"  said  the  admiral.  "  If  your  discre 
tion  equal  your  courage,  the  matter  may  be  arranged. " 

"It  is  useless  to  try  it,"  was  the  reply;  "to  have 
known  your  ward,  to  have  seen  her,  and  to  know 
that  she  is  destined  for  the  arms  of  another,  makes 
life  a  hell,  and  death  a  pleasure." 

"Is  it  so? "  said  the  admiral,  pausing. 

"Think  of  the  days  of  your  own  youth,  sir,  and 
one  that  you  loved,  and  you  will  understand  me." 

The  admiral  reflected.  The  stake  he  was  playing 
for  was  so  high,  his  desire  was  so  great  —  like  the 
woman  who  hesitated,  he  fell.  There  would  be 
some  way  out  of  it,  surely.  As  he  drew  near  to  the 
moment  and  to  the  goal,  his  overwhelming  desire 
took  possession  of  him,  and  blinded  him;  desire 
blinds  as  well  as  love. 

"Even  that,"  finally  he  said  slowly,  looking  mean 
ingly  at  O'Neill  the  while,  "may  be  arranged." 

"Good  God!"  said  O'Neill,  white  to  the  lips. 
"  What  is  it  you  would  have  me  do  ?  Speak  !  Titles, 
rank,  station,  friends,  fame,  opportunities,  life  itself, 
would  I  cheerfully  give  for  her  who  has  taken  pos- 

99 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

session  of  me.     Speak,  my  Lord!"  cried  the  young 
man,  entreatingly. 

The  heart  of  the  girl  in  the  picture  frame  in  the 
dark  corner  stopped  its  beating.  The  gates  of 
heaven,  as  it  were,  had  been  opened  before  her. 
What  was  the  proposition  ? 

"  Listen ! "  said  the  admiral,  slowly,  at  last.  He 
was  sure  he  had  him  now. 

"I  could  settle  the  course  of  the  world  while  I 
wait  for  your  reply,  sir.  Delay  no  longer,  I  pray 
you;  I  am  in  a  torture  of  apprehension,"  said 
O'Neill,  eagerly. 

"  I  design  not  to  take  from  you  rank  nor  station 
nor  lands  nor  position,"  replied  the  admiral.  "I 
offer  you  a  free  pardon  for  all  your  past  offences; 
nay,  it  shall  cover  your  father's  as  well,  if  you  wish. 
There  shall  be  a  restoration  of  the  ancient  lands  of 
your  venerable  house.  I  will  put  your  feet  upon  a 
ladder  by  which  you  may  rise  to  the  very  highest 
position.  I  open  before  you  vistas  of  honorable 
advancement  in  the  service  of  your  rightful  king  in 
your  native  land,  in  which  there  is  no  limit  to  which 
a  man  of  courage  may  not  attain." 

"These  are  nothing,"  said  the  young  man,  im 
petuously,  "beside  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard;  some 
of  the  things  you  mention  I  now  have,  some  I  do 
not  wish,  some  are  nothing  to  me.  But  your  ward, 
sir,  what  of  her?  " 

"  Oh,  what  a  lover  is  there ! "  whispered  to  herself 
the  girl  in  the  picture  frame,  forgetting  the  pose, 
clasping  her  white  hands  and  leaning  forward  with 

100 


O'NEILL   WILL   KEEP   HIS   HONOR 

shining  eyes,  blushing  cheeks,  and  parted  lips,  lis 
tening  with  wildly  beating  heart.  This  in  her  breast 
now  was  love,  indeed,  —  in  no  way  like  to  the  pale 
affection  with  which  she  regarded  the  unfortunate 
Coventry.  The  admiral  spoke  again,  fixing  his  eye 
upon  the  young  man.  His  words  came  slowly. 

"Well,  sir,  I  will  even  agree  to  interpose  no 
objections  to  your  suit  for  the  hand  of  my  ward." 

"  But  that  is  tantamount  to  giving  your  consent, 
my  Lord,"  said  O'Neill,  coming  nearer  to  him  in 
great  surprise,  his  heart  bounding  —  and  yet  there 
must  be  some  conditions  to  the  royal  gift.  The 
admiral  bowed.  "And  Major  Coventry?"  cried  the 
Irishman. 

"His  desires  must  give  way  to  —  er  —  reasons  of 
state,"  said  the  admiral,  decisively.  "  I  will  arrange 
all  that;  if  you  can  obtain  her  consent  to  your  suit, 
she  is  yours,  provided — •"  he  paused  significantly. 
Ah  !  the  conditions ! 

"My  consent!"  thought  Elizabeth,  happiness 
flooding  her  like  a  wave;  and  then  she  remembered 
that  she  was  a  woman,  and  indignation  found  a  lodge 
ment  in  her  being.  'Twas  not  thus  she  would  be 
wooed  and  won,  not  in  this  bartering  way  disposed 
of.  By  what  right  did  any  one  —  even  her  guardian 
—  presume  to—  O'Neill  was  speaking  again. 

"What  are  the  conditions  —  what  is  it  you  wish 
me  to  do  ?  If  it  be  in  human  power,  't  is  done. 
Torment  me  no  more;  as  you  are  a  man  and  have  a 
heart,  speak!"  In  his  agitation  the  younger  man 
seized  the  elder  by  the  arm. 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  I  desire  you  to  go  back  to  your  ship  and  arrange 
to  put  in  my  possession  the  person  of  John  Paul 
Jones,"  said  the  admiral,  with  the  greatest  delibera 
tion,  concealing  his  anxiety  by  an  appearance  of 
great  firmness,  as  he  nonchalantly  helped  himself  to 
a  pinch  of  snuff.  An  accurate  observer  would  have 
noticed  that  the  trembling  of  his  hands  belied  his 
simulated  calmness. 

It  was  out  now!  What  would  the  man  say  or  do? 
Elizabeth  sank  back  appalled.  So  this  was  the  con 
dition  ;  this  was  the  test.  He  was  to  choose  between 
her  and  black  treachery  —  dishonor!  His  answer, 
what  would  it  be?  Had  her  idol  feet  of  clay,  after 
all?  Her  fate  hung  in  the  balance;  she  could  never 
survive  his  shame  if  he  fell ;  if  not  —  ah  ! 

O'Neill  released  the  admiral  at  once,  stared  at 
him  a  long  moment  in  horrified  silence,  shrank 
away  from  him,  and  sank  down  in  the  chair  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands  for  a  little  space;  his 
two  auditors  waited,  hope  for  different  results  trem 
bling  in  either  heart.  Presently  he  looked  up  and 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"Treachery  —  dishonor  —  shame!  And  with  her 
innocence  and  youth  and  beauty  you  bait  your 
trap!"  ejaculated  O'Neill,  brokenly.  The  admiral 
still  played  with  his  snuff-box,  his  eyes  averted,  his 
hands  trembling  still.  Was  it  age,  or  — 

"  Oh,  my  God,  my  God ! "  continued  the  sailor, 
stricken  to  the  very  heart,  "to  raise  my  hopes  to 
such  a  pitch  —  to  put  the  cup  of  happiness  to  my 
very  lips  —  to  open  the  gates  of  heaven  in  my  very 


O'NEILL  WILL  KEEP   HIS   HONOR 

presence  —  and  couple  your  propositions  with  this 
—  this  infamy !  I  am  a  lover,  sir,  you  know  it 
well;  but  you  should  not  have  forgotten  that  I 
am,  before  everything  else,  a  gentleman.  How 
could  you  do  it?  It  ill  becomes  your  years,"  he 
went  on  impetuously,  in  mounting  indignation.  "  I 
am  your  prisoner —  your  captive;  but  I  knew  not 
that  misfortune  gave  you  a  right  to  insult  me  thus. 
My  Lord,  my  Lord,  the  ladder  upon  which  you  put 
my  feet  leads  down,  not  up;  hell,  not  heaven,  is  its 
end ! " 

"Think!"  said  the  admiral,  doggedly,  feeling  the 
game  was  lost,  but,  like  a  desperate  gamester,  play 
ing  on.  "  The  Lady  Elizabeth  is  at  the  end,  wher 
e'er  it  be." 

"  I  love  her,  God  only  knows  how  much  I  love 
her;  from  the  moment  I  saw  her  I  have  had  no 
thought  but  for  her.  I  could  not  look  her  in  the 
face  and  be  guilty  of  this  thing."  The  girl  in  the 
picture  almost  cried  aloud  for  joy  in  this  triumph  of 
her  lover's  honor. 

"  She  shall  never  know,"  replied  the  admiral.  "  I 
will  pledge  my  word  of  honor." 

The  honor  of  the  tempter,  for  the  dishonor  of  the 
tempted!  O'Neill  laughed  bitterly. 

"  It  has  not  in  forty  years  of  service  been  called 
in  question,"  replied  the  old  man,  stifling  his  grow 
ing  shame. 

"Nor  has  mine,"  said  O'Neill,  "until  this  hour. 
You  are  her  guardian  —  an  old  man — your  gray 
hairs  should  protect  you  ;  but  't  is  well  for  you  that  I 

103 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

Aave  no  sword,  for  I  swear  I  would  plunge  it  first 
into  your  heart  and  then  into  my  own  ! " 

"Think  what  it  is  I  offer,"  persisted  the  other. 
"  Compare  it  to  what  you  now  have  in  the  way  of 
worldly  honor.  What  do  you  care  for  that  bit  of 
striped  bunting  and  those  beggarly  rebels  who  have 
presumed  to  declare  a  republic?  What  is  a  repub 
lic,  anyway,  and  what  function  has  it  in  a  gentle 
man's  life,  pray?  What  have  we  to  do  with  the 
common  people?  What  are  their  aspirations  to 
you?  What  affiliations  have  you  for  that  low-born 
gardener,  turned  pirate  and  buccaneer  to  ravage  our 
coasts,  dishonor  our  flag?  This  is  the  kingdom  in 
which  you  were  born.  Here  your  rightful  allegiance 
is  due.  I  offer  you,  for  the  giving  up  of  a  —  senti 
ment  which  possesses  you,  the  favor  of  your  king 
and  the  hand  of  the  woman  you  love,  —  every  earthly 
thing  to  make  you  happy.  Yon  are  an  exile,  a 
wanderer,  a  soldier  of  fortune.  I  give  you  a  country 
again." 

"And  do  you,  a  man  of  honor,  advise  me  to —  " 

"Damnation,  sir!  I  advise  nothing,  I  offer;  the 
decision  rests  with  you." 

"Ah,  I  thought  so;  and  what  would  you  do  in  my 
place,  sir? " 

"I  'm  not  there,  thank  God!"  said  the  old  man, 
fervently;  "and  I  repeat,  you  must  decide  yourself. " 

"Very  good,  sir.  It  is  true  that  I  like  not  that 
republic,  its  principles  are  nothing  to  me;  but  I 
have  found  that  gardener's  son  a  man  —  ay,  a  gentle 
man  !  You  have  called  me  a  landless  man,  an  exile, 

104 


O'NEILL  WILL   KEEP   HIS   HONOR 

a  soldier  of  fortune,  —  that,  too,  is  true.  But  to 
Captain  Jones  and  his  service  I  have  pledged  my 
honor;  'tis  all  I  have;  the  stars  and  stripes  are 
become  my  flag ;  I  wear  the  uniform,  I  eat  the  bread, 
of  the  United  States.  You  may  break  my  heart, 
destroy  my  life;  you  cannot  break  my  word.  There 
is  not  power  and  place  enough  in  the  three  king 
doms,  no,  not  even  on  their  throne,  not  beauty 
enough  even  in  Elizabeth  Howard  to  tempt  me  —  to 
compel  me  to  do  that.  Say  no  more.  You  have 
your  answer." 


CHAPTER   XII 

Gentlemen  All 

"  ~W  OOK,  you  fool!"  said  the  admiral,  roughly} 
[  y  furious  with  rage  at  being  balked  in  this  way, 
though,  in  spite  of  himself,  his  heart  exulted  in  the 
nobility  of  the  man.  "Look,  you  beggarly  Irish 
man  ! "  he  exclaimed,  turning  the  surprised  young- 
man  about  before  he  could  recover  himself,  —  "  look 
on  the  picture  of  her  whom  you  reject!  Gaze  upon 
it !  If  you  love  her,  say  whether  or  no  your  high- 
flown  sentiments  of  honor  can  stand  against  that 
prospect."  It  was  his  final  appeal,  win  or  lose;  he 
had  staked  all  upon  the  throw- 
There  in  the  great  frame  stood  the  most  beauti 
ful  picture  that  the  eyes  of  either  man  had  evei 
seen.  Elizabeth  was  standing.  One  tiny  hand 
clutched  tightly  her  heaving  bosom ;  the  other  arm 
was  stretched  out  with  upraised  palm  like  a  goddess 
in  command.  The  light  of  the  flickering  candles 
cast  subtle  shadows  upon  her  face.  The  dusk  of  the 
room  intensified  the  illusion  and  spiritualized  her 
beauty.  O'Neill  looked  at  her  with  all  his  life 
in  his  gaze;  so  glorious,  so  splendid,  so  perfect  a 
creature  would  shake  the  very  soul  of  honor  itself ! 
The  admiral  had  played  his  last  card ;  this  was 
the  end  of  his  resource,  and  he  watched  the  Irish- 

106 


He  watched  her  in  awe-struck  silence,  sank  on  his  knees,  stretched 
out  his  arms. 


GENTLEMEN   ALL 

man  with  all  the  intensity  of  a  tiger  about  to  spring 
on  its  prey.  The  moments  fled.  He  knew  that  he 
had  lost.  Elizabeth  had  risen  in  the  stress  of  her 
anxiety,  the  strain  had  been  too  much  for  her;  she 
had  been  about  to  intervene  between  them,  when 
the  glances  of  the  two  men  arrested  her  step.  She 
waited,  one  little  foot  outstretched,  her  body  lean 
ing  forward  slightly,  a  picture  of  triumph,  her  eyes 
as  two  lambent  flames  playing  upon  her  lover.  He 
watched  her  in  awestruck  silence,  sank  on  his  knees, 
stretched  out  his  arms,  murmuring  softly,  — • 

"  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee.  I  have  dreamed 
sometimes  that  in  happier  days  thou  mightest  have 
given  me  thy  heart,  but  I  could  not  take  it  with  a 
bar  sinister  of  shame  between  us!  No — •"  Was 
she  moving !  Was  that  some  trick  of  the  wavering 
light ! 

"Good  heavens  !  "  cried  O'Neill,  fearfully,  rising. 
"  See  —  is  it  a  spirit  ?  She  shakes  her  head !  Look 
you,  my  Lord,  she  is  alive;  the  picture  fell  last 
night,  you  remember —  'T  is  herself!  Elizabeth, 
Elizabeth,  you  have  heard  and  seen  —  have  I  not 
decided  well?  " 

"  How  dare  you,  my  Lord ! "  exclaimed  the  girl, 
coming  down  from  the  dais  and  stepping  swiftly 
toward  the  astonished  admiral,  who  shrank  back 
from  her,  —  "  how  dare  you  make  my  hand  the 
reward  of  treachery;  my  person  the  bait  for  dis 
honor?  And  by  what  right  do  you  dispose  of  me 
without  consulting  me?  Am  I  a  slave,  that  you 
force  me  upon  this  gentleman  ?  My  word  is  given 

107 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

to  your  son;  you  yourself  insisted  upon  it.  You 
would  play  the  traitor  double,  and  would  fain  make 
him  do  the  same.  And  for  what?  To  compass  the 
death  of  one  poor  man  to  whom  I  owe  life  and 
honor,  who  is  only  fighting  for  what  he  calls  his 
freedom!  Shame  upon  your  gray  hairs,  sir!  Oh, 
the  insult  to  my  modesty  —  to  be  thus  bandied  about 
between  two  men—  And  you,  sir!"  she  cried,  in 
tempestuous  passion,  turning  to  O'Neill,  —  "you 
do  me  the  honor  to  refuse  me  —  to  reject  me  —  me 
—  me  —  Elizabeth  Howard — look  at  me  —  you  would 
have  none  of  me  — 

"My  honor—  "  cried  O'Neill,  amazed  at  her  sud 
den  change  and  inconsistency. 

"Your  honor  —  have  I  any  honor,  sir?  Would 
you  have  left  me  a  shadow  of  it  between  you  ?  Stand 
back,  sir!  My  Lord,  is  it  thus  you  discharge  the 
trust  committed  to  you  by  my  mother?  To  give 
this  gentleman  opportunity  to  return  to  France, 
and  say  that  he  has  refused  my  hand?" 

"He  shall  not  go  back  to  France,  Lady  Eliza 
beth,"  said  the  admiral,  sternly. 

"Why  not,  pray?"  asked  Elizabeth,  faltering, 
her  passionate  anger  checked  by  the  admiral's  word 
and  look. 

"Because  he  shall  be  tried  and  hanged  to-morrow 
as  an  American  spy  or  a  captured  traitor,  whichever 
he  may  elect." 

She  stood  as  if  petrified  at  these  cruel  words. 

"It  is  right,  sir,"  said  O'Neill.  "I  submit;  and 
if  you  would  make  me  die  happy,  say  that  the 

1 08 


GENTLEMEN   ALL 

hideous  proposition  I  have  had  from  you  was  but  the 
test  of  my  honor." 

"Oh,  sir!"  cried  Elizabeth,  in  agony,  throwing 
herself  upon  her  knees  before  the  admiral,  "forgive 
me  for  my  wild,  intemperate  speech;  I  know  not 
what  I  say.  You  have  been  a  father  to  me  from  the 
beginning,  and  I  have  ever  loved  you  as  one;  I 
have  turned  to  you  for  everything.  Unsay  your 
cruel  words !  Retract  this  order !  You  cannot  con 
demn  this  honest  gentleman.  Dispose  of  me  as  you 
will.  I  love  him  —  I  love  him  —  ay,  let  the  truth  be 
heard  —  even  for  his  rejection  of  me!  Nay,  had  he 
not  done  so,  I  would  have  hated  him.  Spare  his 
life  —  I  will  marry  Edward,  do  anything  you  wish 
—  grant  me  this  boon  !  " 

"I  cannot,"  said  the  admiral,  slowly;  "I  pity 
you,  from  my  soul  I  do,  and  him  as  well,  but  I  dare 
not.  There  is  but  one  thing  that  would  excuse  my 
clemency  to  his  Majesty  —  there  is  the  alternative 
he  has  nobly  rejected :  die  he  must,  or  give  up  his 
captain  \" 

"  A  thousand  deaths  rather  than  that !  "  answered 
O'Neill.  "Rise,  Lady  Elizabeth;  your  appeal  is 
vain.  Rejoicing  in  your  approval  of  my  action, 
thankful  to  God  that  I  have  heard  you  say,  '  I  love 
you,'  I  shall  die  happy." 

"  No,  no ! "  said  the  girl,  spreading  her  arms  pro- 
tectingly  before  him,  and  then  throwing  herself 
upon  his  breast,  "you  cannot  die  —  you  shall  not 
die !  Oh,  my  love,  my  love,  I  knew  not  until  I 
heard  you  speak  what  this  feeling  was.  I  cannot  let 

109 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

you  go !  Surely,  you  would  never  be  so  cruel  as  to 
part  us  now?"  she  cried  brokenly,  looking  back  at 
the  impassive  old  man;  his  hands  were  steady 
enough  now,  — they  never  trembled  but  from  shame. 
"What  has  he  done?  He  came  here  to  see  me, — 
me  alone,  —  to  take  me  in  his  arms  as  he  holds  me 
now;  and  you  condemn  him  to  death  for  that !  Did 
you  never  love  when  you  were  young?  They  whis 
pered  that  it  was  my  mother  who  had  your  heart. 
They  told  me  that  she  was  unhappy  because  they 
forced  you  apart.  'Twas  to  you  she  confided  me. 
Have  pity,  in  her  name,  have  mercy ! " 

"Enough!"  said  the  admiral;  "it  is  not  that  I 
will  not,  but  I  cannot.  He  has  chosen;  he  must 
die." 

"Then  may  death  come  to  me,"  said  Elizabeth; 
"because,  for  all  eternity,  I  love  him  !  " 

"And  this,"  broke  in  the  cold,  stern  voice  of 
Major  Coventry,  who  had  entered  the  room  at  that 
moment,  "  is  the  welcome  I  receive  from  my  bride 
of  to-morrow,  and  this  is  the  reward  of  the  efforts  I 
have  made  to  secure  the  release  of  the  Marquis  de 
Richemont,  my  friend  !  May  God  have  pity  on  me,  — 
my  sweetheart  and  my  friend  !  " 

"Sir!"  said  O'Neill,  brokenly,  "I  crave  your 
forgiveness.  I  knew  that  she  was  yours  —  I  do  not 
understand  how  we  got  into  this  position,"  passing 
his  hand  over  his  forehead  in  bewilderment;  "but 
this  I  know,  —  I  am  to  die !  There  is  no  choice. 
She  will  yet  be  yours." 

"Never  —  never!"  cried  Elizabeth,  turning  to 
no 


GENTLEMEN   ALL 

him.  "Edward,  if  you  have  truly  loved  me,  — if  I 
have  rightly  estimated  you,  your  nobility  of  soul, 
your  generosity  of  heart,  — you  will  plead  for  us  with 
your  father.  You  will  give  me  up;  you  are  too 
proud  to  take  an  unwilling  bride,  and  one  who  in 
spite  of  herself  —  for  I  have  fought  against  it  for 
your  sake  —  confesses  that  she  loves  another.  You 
will  intercede  with  your  father  —  I  will  bless  you 
all  the  days  of  my  life.  Edward,  Edward,  the  com 
panion  of  my  childhood's  hours  —  my  friend  —  my 
brother  —  my  only  hope  is  in  you !  Speak !  "  She 
fell  at  his  feet  and  clasped  his  hand,  which  she 
covered  with  kisses.  There  was  another  silence. 
Coventry  covered  his  face  with  his  other  hand;  the 
sweat  of  agony  bedewed  his  brow. 

"Rise,  Elizabeth,  you  shall  not  put  your  trust  in 
me  in  vain,"  he  cried  hoarsely,  at  last.  "Father, 
can  nothing  be  done?  I  will  not  stand  in  the 
way. " 

"  My  son  —  Lady  Elizabeth  —  Lieutenant  O' Neill 
—  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  done.  My  duty  is 
perfectly  clear.  The  only  possible  salvation  of  the 
prisoner  would  be  in  the  action  which  he  has  refused 
even  to  consider;  and,  sir,  if  it  were  my  duty  to 
effect,  if  possible,  the  capture  of  your  captain  and 
his  ship  through  you,  I  can  only  say  that  I  am  glad 
that  I  have  failed.  I  apologize  to  you;  you  are  a 
man  of  honor,  indeed,  sir.  I  know  few  who  would 
have  resisted  such  a  plea  as  this.  Say  no  more, 
Elizabeth,  it  is  not  that  I  will  not  —  I  cannot! 
Edward,  here  is  my  seal.  Make  out  the  warrant  for 

in 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

an  order  for  a  court-martial  to-morrow  morning;  it 
is  a  necessary  form,  of  course.  The  execution  of 
Lieutenant  O'Neill  will  follow  at  once."  Eliza 
beth  did  not  faint,  — no,  not  yet;  there  would 
be  time  for  that  later.  She  clung  to  O'Neill  and 
listened. 

"What  shall  be  the  manner  of  my  death,  sir?" 
queried  the  latter. 

"Hanging,  sir.  'T  is  the  penalty  prescribed  by 
the  law." 

"It  is  a  poor  death  for  a  man,  my  Lord,  but  't  will 
serve.  A  last  request,  sir.  I  am  a  sailor  —  may  I 
be  hanged  upon  a  ship?"  he  asked  again,  pressing 
the  trembling  woman  to  his  breast. 

"I  grant  that  —  would  that  I  could  grant  more! 
Major  Coventry,  you  will  direct  Captain  Pearson  of 
the  Serapis  to  execute  the  sentence  of  the  court, 
which  will  meet  on  his  ship,  the  prisoner  to  be 
confined  there  meanwhile.  You  will  find  the  papers 
in  the  library;  here  is  my  seal;  hasten,  and  get  the 
painful  matter  over."  Coventry  left  the  room  at 
once,  in  obedience  to  his  orders. 

"And  at  what  time,  sir,  will  the  sentence  be 
carried  out?  "  asked  O'Neill,  Elizabeth  still  clinging 
to  him,  covering  him  with  incoherent  caresses,  and 
fighting  against  despair. 

"To-morrow  evening  at  half  after  six  o'clock." 

"Very  well,  my  Lord." 

At  this  moment  the  old  sergeant  entered  the  room 
and  saluted  the  admiral. 

"  A  French  officer,  wich  he  says  he  's  from  the 

112 


American  Continental  squadron,  has  come  ashore  in 
a  small  cutter,  under  a  flag  of  truce,  an'  desires  to 
speak  with  your  Lordship.  He  asks  for  a  safe- 
conduct." 

"Tell  him  he  shall  return  as  freely  as  he  came, 
on  the  word  of  a  British  officer,  and  admit  him." 

A  slender,  dapper  little  man,  in  the  brilliant  uni 
form  of  a  French  marine  officer,  his  head  covered 
with  a  powdered  wig,  entered  the  room  a  moment 
later,  and  bowed  profoundly.  Elizabeth  started 
violently  as  she  beheld  him. 

"Whom  have  I  the  honor  of  addressing?  "  asked 
the  admiral. 

"The  Vicomtede  Chamillard,  a  colonel  of  marines 
in  the  navy  of  France,  serving  as  a  volunteer  in  the 
American  squadron,"  was  the  reply. 

"And  you  come  on  behalf  of- 

"  Captain  John  Paul  Jones,  to  protest  against  your 
unlawful  detention  of  another  French  officer,  the 
Marquis  de  Richemont,  my  Lord." 

"He  is  a  spy,  caught  in  the  very  act:  he  has 
admitted  it;  and  if  that  were  not  enough,  I  find  he 
is  an  attainted  traitor.  A  court  is  ordered  for  to 
morrow  morning  on  the  Serapis;  his  execution, 
which  will  be  inevitable,  is  set  for  half  after  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening;  he  shall  hang  from  one  of 
the  frigate's  yard-arms." 

"De  Chamillard,"  said  O'Neill,  "you  can  do 
nothing." 

"The  laws  of  war  —  "  persisted  the  Frenchman. 

"  It  is  in  accordance  with  those  laws  that  I  do 
8  113 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

what  I  do,"  replied  the  admiral,  shortly;  "and  you 
may  say  to  your  captain  that  if  I  catch  him  he  shall 
swing  from  the  first  yard-arm  that  comes  in  the 
harbor." 

"  I  am  answered,  then.  Very  good ;  I  shall  re 
member  your  courteous  words,  my  Lord ;  and  now  I 
enter  my  formal  protest  against  this  unwarranted 
action  on  your  part  concerning  the  Marquis  de 
Richemont.  The  King  of  France  will  have  some 
thing  to  say  about  it.  I  bid  you  farewell." 

"Farewell,  sir,"  said  the  admiral,  indifferently 
turning  away. 

"  De  Richemont,  good-bye;  embrace  me."  As 
the  two  men  came  together,  the  Frenchman  whis 
pered,  "This  woman  —  is  she  your  friend?" 

"Yes,"  replied  O'Neill,  quickly. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  De  Chamillard,  turning  to 
Elizabeth  with  a  keen  look  in  his  eyes.  Recogniz 
ing  him  at  last,  she  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him. 
He  murmured  as  he  bent  low  over  it,  "Delay  the 
execution  for  at  least  six  hours,  and  I  will  save 
him."  Elizabeth  sank  down  in  her  chair,  a  gleam 
of  hope  in  her  heart. 

"I  salute  you,"  he  said,  turning  away. 

"Sergeant,"  cried  the  admiral,  "attend  the 
Vicomte  de  Chamillard  and  see  him  safely  be 
stowed  on  his  vessel." 

As  the  Frenchman  turned  toward  the  door,  he 
came  face  to  face  with  Major  Coventry  returning 
with  the  orders  he  had  prepared. 

"  Paul  Jones,  by  Heaven  !  "  shouted  the  latter. 
114 


GENTLEMEN   ALL 

"At  your  service,"  said  the  supposed  Frenchman, 
promptly  tearing  off  his  wig  and  laying  his  hand 
on  his  sword. 

"Ha!"  cried  the  admiral.     "Have  you  dared  to 
come  here !     I  have  you  now !    Call  the  guard  !    Ser 
geant,   arrest  this  rebel  —  this  traitor  —  this  pirate 
—  disarm  him!     You   shall  never  leave  this  castle 
but  for  the  ship,   sir.     The  yard-arm  is  there." 

"  Stop,  my  Lord  !  "  answered  Jones,  calmly,  as  the 
men  crowded  toward  him;  "stand  back,  sergeant, 
back,  men!  You  cannot  touch  me;  I  have  that 
which  will  protect  me  wherever  flies  the  English 
flag." 

"And  that  is—  "  said  the  admiral,  smiling  con 
temptuously. 

"  Your  word,  sir,  —  the  word  of  an  English  officer. " 

The  old  man  bit  his  lip  in  chagrined  silence.  He 
struggled  with  himself,  looking  at  the  easy,  insou 
ciant  Scotsman  before  him. 

"In  seventy  years  it  has  not  been  broken,"  he 
said  at  last.  "  Well  for  you  that  you  secured  it. 
Go !  You  are  free !  You  are  a  bold  man,  sir,  but, 
I  warn  you,  do  not  cross  my  path  again." 

"I  am  proud  to  have  met  so  true  a  gentleman. 
Will  you  honor  me  ? "  said  Paul  Jones,  presenting 
his  snuff-box  to  the  admiral.  The  old  man  hesi 
tated,  laughed  in  spite  of  himself,  and  finally  helped 
himself  to  a  pinch. 

"  The  d d  insolence  of  the  man !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  'd  like  to  have  met  you  in  my  young  days,  yard- 
arm  to  yard-arm." 

"5 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"I  would  have  endeavored  to  occupy  you,  sir," 
said  Jones,  coolly;  "and  now  I  bid  you  fare 
well." 

He  shot  one  meaning  glance  at  Elizabeth,  and  his 
lips  seemed  to  form  the  words  "six  hours,"  as  he 
departed  from  the  room. 

"Here  is  the  warrant,  sir,"  said  Coventry. 
"Again  I  ask,  and  this  time  I  ask  my  father,  can 
nothing  be  done? " 

"  Nothing,  sir,  less  as  a  father  than  in  any  other 
capacity.  Sergeant,  take  your  prisoner.  Major 
Coventry,  you  will  conduct  him  on  the  Serapis, 
and  remain  there  as  my  representative  until  the 
execution  is  over.  Sir,  you  have  borne  yourself 
well  this  day;  I  would  shake  you  by  the  hand. 
Good-bye." 

O'Neill  clasped  the  proffered  hand  warmly,  and 
then  looked  from  Coventry,  standing  erect,  im 
movable,  white-faced,  to  Elizabeth,  who  was  still 
sitting  with  bowed  head,  a  world  of  entreaty  in 
his  glance.  Coventry  nodded  and  turned  away. 
O'Neill  stepped  quickly  to  the  girl's  side,  took 
her  hand  in  his,  bowed  low  over  it,  pressed  a  long 
kiss  upon  it. 

"  May  you  be  happy !  "  he  said.  "  Farewell !  " 
She  looked  at  him  in  dazed  silence. 

"Sir,"  he  continued,  turning  back  to  Coventry, 
and  saluting  him,  "I  am  ready.  Lead  on." 

"  Forward,  march,  sergeant ! "  commanded  the  offi 
cer,  hoarsely,  and  with  no  backward  look  the  little 
cortege  moved  from  the  room.  The  girl  rose  to 

116 


GENTLEMEN   ALL 

her  feet  as  if  to  start  after  them,  but  the  old  man 
restrained  her. 

"O'Neill  —  O'Neill  — "  rang  through  the  hall 
—  a  wild,  despairing  cry  —  and  then  Lady  Eliza 
beth  sank  down  white  and  still  at  the  feet  of  the 
admiral. 

"  And  this  is  love ! "  he  murmured,  shaking  his 
old  head;  "I  had  forgotten  it." 


117 


BOOK     III 

ON   THE   VERGE  OF   ETERNITY 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A  Desperate  Move 

IT  was  morning  when  Elizabeth  came  again  to  the 
terrace  above  the  water  battery  overlooking  the 
harbor.  She  had  passed  a  night  of  sleepless  agony, 
and  her  pallid  face,  with  its  haggard  expression,  the 
great  black  circles  under  the  eyes,  — for  her  grief  had 
been  too  deep  for  tears,  —  gave  outward  evidence  of 
her  breaking  heart.  She  had  besought  the  admiral 
again  and  again  to  stay  the  execution  of  her  lover, 
urging  every  plea  that  the  most  desperate  mind  could 
suggest;  she  had  implored  his  mercy  and  pity  upon 
every  ground,  and  upon  his  inexorable  refusal  had 
begged  that  he  might  be  reprieved  for  a  few  hours, 
and  that  she  might  at  least  be  allowed  to  see  him 
before  he  died.  Touched  by  her  sorrow,  at  first 
the  old  man  had  been  inclined  to  grant  this  petition, 
and  had  scribbled  a  line  on  his  official  paper,  giving 
the  desired  permission;  but  before  he  signed  and 
sealed  it,  he  changed  his  mind,  and  deemed  it  best 
to  refuse,  —  more  merciful  to  her,  in  fact. 

It  really  wrung  his  heart  to  be  unable  to  extend 
clemency  to  this  young  man.  He  repented  him  of 
the  temptation  he  had  thrown  in  his  way.  The 
nobility  with  which  O'Neill  had  refused  and  rejected 
the  chance  of  life  which  had  been  offered  him,  the 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

simplicity  with  which  he  had  given  up  everything 
for  honor,  impressed  him  more  than  ever.  He  was 
sick  at  heart  at  the  grief  of  his  ward,  whom  he  truly 
loved,  and  the  broken,  despairing  face  of  his  son, 
since  he  had  learned  that  Elizabeth  loved  O'Neill, 
haunted  him.  He  wished  that  the  Irishman  had 
never  come  across  his  path,  though  he  could  not 
but  admire  his  honor,  his  grace,  and  his  courage. 
He  was  bitterly  sorry  that  he  had  ever  attempted  to 
influence  the  man;  he  had  an  uncomfortable  and 
growing  suspicion  that  his  plans  had  brought  noth 
ing  but  trouble  to  every  one.  Breaking  away  from 
the  presence  of  Elizabeth,  whose  anguished  face  was 
a  living  reproach  to  him,  he  finally  secluded  himself 
in  his  office  and  refused  to  see  her  again. 

So  the  day,  like  yesterday,  wore  away;  but,  oh, 
how  differently!  The  girl  never  knew  how  she 
passed  the  hours.  She  wandered  restlessly  up  and 
down  the  terrace,  her  eyes  strained  upon  the  sea. 
The  garrison,  who  idolized  her  to  a  man,  had  been 
apprised  by  the  sergeant  of  what  had  happened,  and, 
to  a  man,  they  were  upon  her  side.  The  men  would 
never  forget  the  picture  she  made,  as  they  watched 
her  pacing  to  and  fro,  ceaselessly  gazing  at  the  white 
ship  in  the  harbor,  — her  lover's  prison,  his  scaffold 
even. 

The  sense  of  impotent  helplessness  with  which 
she  was  compelled  to  face  the  situation,  the  knowl 
edge  that  O'Neill  was  doomed  absolutely,  that  there 
was  nothing  that  she  could  do  or  say  which  would 
alter  the  decision,  was  terrible.  She  had  been 

122 


A   DESPERATE   MOVE 

accustomed  to  have  her  will,  and  like  most  women 
loved  it.  Now  she  had  to  stand  by  in  the  bright 
sunlight  with  all  the  strength  of  life  and  youth  and 
love  in  her  veins  and  in  his,  and  see  her  lover 
choked  to  death  —  hanged  like  a  dog  —  at  the  black 
yard-arm  of  that  great  ship  yonder. 

And  for  what  ?  Womanlike,  she  put  aside  every 
thought  of  him  but  that  he  had  dared  death  itself  only 
to  see  her,  to  be  in  her  presence  again !  Oh,  how 
splendid,  how  handsome,  how  noble  he  had  been  in 
the  great  hall,  when  he  had  refused  her  rather  than 
to  take  her  as  the  reward  of  treachery !  and  now  he 
was  to  become  a  lifeless  lump  of  clay,  alive  to  her 
only  as  a  memory,  a  recollection  —  how  cruel !  She 
could  not,  she  would  not,  stand  it.  She  racked  her 
brain  over  and  over.  Was  there  nothing?  No  — 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  Her  maid  had  not 
been  able  to  drag  her  from  the  terrace  whence  she 
had  a  view  of  the  ship  on  which  her  lover  was  to  be 
executed,  —  murdered,  she  said.  As  she  gazed  upon 
it,  she  noticed  two  men  climbing  nimbly  up  the 
black  shrouds  about  the  foremast.  When  they 
reached  the  foreyard,  they  ran  out  on  the  yard-arm. 
One  of  them  carried  something.  A  rope  was  drag 
ging  from  it.  In  obedience  to  an  imperious  com 
mand,  her  maid  ran  and  fetched  her  a  glass.  One 
look  through  it  showed  her  —  she  was  a  sailor's  ward 
• — that  they  were  rigging  a  whip  on  the  yard-arm, 
they  were  securing  there  a  girt-line  block  through 
which  a  rope  was  rove,  leading  to  the  top  and  thence 
to  the  deck.  She  divined  at  once  its  hideous  pur- 

123 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

pose.  The  hour!  The  hour!  Had  it  grown  so 
late?  Was  it  so  near,  so  near?  Was  there  a  God 
in  that  blue  heaven  bending  above  her  head?  Could 
such  things  be? 

A  sick  feeling  came  over  her  heart,  and  she  would 
have  fainted  but  for  a  sudden  inspiration.  Again  she 
seized  the  telescope,  —  an  unusually  strong  one,  by 
the  way,  —  and  raising  it  to  her  eyes  with  unsteady 
hand,  eagerly  swept  the  sea  off  in  the  direction  of 
Flamborough  Head,  rising  faintly  down  to  the 
southward,  a  long  distance  away.  For  a  long  time 
her  nervous,  trembling  hands  could  not  get  that  part 
of  the  horizon  in  focus.  She  finally  knelt  down  and 
rested  the  tube  upon  the  parapet,  breathing  a  prayer 
as  she  did  so,  and  looked  again. 

Ah !  At  last  she  had  it,  and  there  swept  into  the 
field  of  vision  three  gleams  of  white  on  the  sky 
line,  proclaiming,  even  to  her  unpractised  eye,  the 
sails  of  ships!  What  had  that  indomitable  man 
said  to  her  last  night  in  the  hall? 

"Delay  the  execution  for  at  least  six  hours,  and  I 
will  save  him  !  "  He  was  not  one  to  promise  lightly. 
She  would  try  again.  The  telescope  fell  with  a 
crash  at  her  feet. 

She  would  make  one  more  appeal  to  the  admiral; 
it  was  late,  but  there  might  yet  be  time.  On  the 
instant  she  turned,  leaving  the  startled  maid,  and 
ran  like  a  fleet-footed  fawn  along  the  terrace,  down 
the  stone  steps  through  the  water  battery,  through 
the  bailey,  into  the  inner  court,  down  the  long  pas 
sage,  and  into  the  great  hall  of  the  night  before, 

124 


A   DESPERATE   MOVE 

where  the  admiral  was  usually  to  be  found  at  this 
hour.  She  dashed  impetuously  into  the  room, 
crying,  — 

"The  admiral,  quick!  where  is  he?" 

"  Ships  has  been  reported  down  at  Bridlin'ton 
Bay, — furrin  ships,  yer  Leddyship,"  replied  the 
old  sergeant,  who  happened  to  be  there  alone,  "an' 
his  Ludship  took  horse  about  half-past  twelve  o'clock 
to  go  down  there." 

Failure!  Her  last  hope  gone!  She  sank  down 
into  the  chair.  Reaction  had  come;  she  was  faint 
ing,  helpless,  dying.  It  was  over!  The  sergeant 
started  toward  her,  his  face  full  of  pity.  She  was 
sitting  in  the  admiral's  chair,  by  the  great  table. 
Her  glance  fell  listlessly  upon  it.  At  the  moment 
another  idea  flashed  into  her  mind.  Desperate, 
foolish,  nevertheless,  she  would  try  it  —  try  any 
thing;  this,  at  least,  was  action.  She  started  to 
her  feet  again  on  the  instant,  instinct  with  life. 

"  Leave  me  at  once,  and  see  that  no  one  inter 
rupts  me;  I  wish  to  be  alone,"  she  said  imperiously 
to  the  astonished  sergeant,  who  bowed  respectfully 
and  withdrew.  A  half  an  hour  later  she  came  hur 
riedly  out  of  the  room,  white-faced,  drawn,  nerved 
up  to  desperate  endeavor. 

How  he  got  through  the  night,  O'Neill  never 
knew.  The  court-martial  in  the  morning  had  taken 
little  time;  its  sentence,  a  foregone  conclusion, 
promptly  approved  by  the  admiral,  had  been  death 
by  hanging  at  half  after  six  o'clock  that  night.  He 

125 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

had  refused  to  give  any  further  parole,  in  the  faint 
hope  that  something  might  enable  him  to  escape, 
and  consequently  had  been  heavily  ironed  and  placed 
in  confinement  in  the  space  between  two  of  the 
great  guns  on  the  lower  gun-deck  —  the  Serapis 
was  a  double-banked  frigate  —  on  the  starboard  side. 
The  forethought  of  Coventry,  who  had  attended  him 
with  the  solicitude  and  kindness  of  a  brother,  and 
had  pleaded  for  him  unavailingly  before  the  court, 
had  caused  a  canvas  screen  to  be  provided,  which 
enclosed  two  of  the  guns,  and  allowed  him  to  pass 
his  hours  undisturbed  by  the  curious  gaze  of  the 
English  seamen.  An  armed  marine  stood  always  as 
sentry  before  the  screen. 

Captain  Pearson,  a  gallant  officer,  had  been  kind 
ness  itself  in  all  his  arrangements,  but  his  orders, 
which  were  peremptory,  left  him  no  discretion 
whatever.  O'Neill  passed  his  time  sitting  by  the 
open  port,  leaning  on  a  gun,  gazing  out  over  the 
water  at  the  gray  old  castle  where  he  had  found  his 
love  and  met  his  fate.  Many  tragedies  had  been 
enacted  within  its  walls  during  long  centuries  of 
history  —  none  sadder  than  his  own. 

It  would  have  been  foolish  to  say  that  he  had  no 
regrets.  No  one  could  think  of  the  possibilities  of 
happiness  presented  by  such  a  love  as  that  which  he 
was  now  assured  Elizabeth  felt  for  him,  without 
a  sense  of  despair  coming  over  the  mind  in  the 
knowledge  they  were  not  to  be  enjoyed;  but  he 
was  a  sailor,  and  generations  of  heroic  ancestors 
had  accustomed  him  to  look  death  in  the  face, 

126 


A   DESPERATE   MOVE 

and  smile  undaunted  at  its  harsh,  forbidding  ap 
pearance. 

"Fortune,  Infortune,  Fortune"  had  been  the  motto 
of  his  branch  of  the  red-handed  O'Neills;  at  least 
that  was  the  punning  Latin  translation  of  a  Celtic 
original  which  meant,  "  Fortune  and  misfortune  are 
alike  to  the  strong." 

When  his  friends  and  acquaintances  at  the  French 
court,  those  knights  and  ladies  with  whom  he  had 
ruffled  it  so  bravely,  the  young  king,  his  master,  his 
old  comrades,  the  hard  fighters  on  the  Richard,  her 
dauntless  captain,  that  brave  old  man,  his  father, 
heard  how  he  died,  they  would  learn  that  he  had  met 
the  last  grim  enemy  with  the  wonted  intrepidity  of 
his  race.  Noblesse  oblige  !  and  then  having  made  his 
peace  with  God  as  best  he  could  alone,  —  he  was  of 
a  different  faith  from  that  of  the  chaplain  of  the 
ship,  —  he  gave  himself  over  to  mournful  dreams  of 
Elizabeth  Howard. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  his  meditations  were  inter 
rupted  by  the  arrival  of  Coventry.  The  poignant 
unhappiness  of  the  young  Englishman  was,  if  any 
thing,  greater  than  that  of  O'Neill.  His  engage 
ment  to  Elizabeth  Howard,  with  whom  he  had  grown 
up,  had  been  at  first  more  or  less  a  matter  of  con 
venience,  and  he  had  never  entirely  realized  the  hold 
she  had  taken  upon  his  heart,  until  he  heard  her  — 
in  the  arms  of  O'Neill  —  make  that  frantic  avowal 
of  her  overwhelming  passion.  CjVIen  frequently  do  not 
know  the  value  of  what  they  have  —  until  they  lose 


127 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

Coventry's  heart  had  been  surcharged  with  love  and 
devotion  to  this  woman,  and  because  his  life  had 
glided  on  evenly  he  had  not  known  how  full  of  love 
it  was  until  he  had  been  so  shaken  that  it  had  over 
flowed.  He  would,  he  thought,  cheerfully  have 
taken  the  other's  place,  sentence  of  death  and  all, 
could  he  hear  but  once  before  he  died  the  ringing 
accents  of  such  a  sublime  confession  —  and  for  him 
self.  His  love  for  the  woman  of  his  choice  was  of 
the  most  exalted  character,  and  might  well,  were 
merit  or  fitness  alone  to  be  considered  in  such  a 
case,  have  claimed  her  own  deepest  feelings  in 
return. 

When  Elizabeth  had  appealed  to  him  to  intervene, 
with  a  magnanimity  as  rare  as  it  was  noble,  he  had 
subordinated  his  happiness  to  her  own,  and  had  en 
deavored  to  procure  a  mitigation  of  the  punishment 
imposed  upon  his  rival,  though  he  knew  his  success 
would  throw  his  promised  wife  into  the  arms  of 
O'Neill.  He  had  not  done  this  without  a  terrible 
struggle,  —  it  was  a  gray-faced,  broken  man  who 
looked  upon  the  world  of  to-day,  in  place  of  the 
smiling  youth  of  the  night  before, — but  he  had 
done  it.  He  felt  that  the  sacrifice  would  cost  him 
his  life,  and  for  that  he  was  truly  glad,  yet  he  had 
offered  it  freely,  generously,  and  nobly.  He  had 
not  hesitated  to  do  so,  for  with  him  the  happiness 
of  Elizabeth  Howard  was  the  paramount  passion. 

If  she  did  not  love  him,  he  could  at  least  show 
her  what  love  truly  meant  in  its  highest  sense;  give 
her  a  lesson  in  love  like  to  the  lesson  in  honor  that 

128 


A   DESPERATE   MOVE 

other  man  had  exhibited  last  night.  For  her  he 
stood  ready  to  give  up  everything;  his  own  future 
he  did  not  allow  to  weigh  a  moment  in  the  balance 
beside  hers. 

There  was  something  grandly  sublime  in  this 
utter  abnegation  of  self,  so  simply  done  for  another's 
happiness.  Coventry  had  been  a  Christian  after  a 
rather  better  fashion,  perhaps,  than  most  young  men 
of  his  time;  his  associations  with  the  sweet,  pure 
girl  he  loved  had  kept  him  so.  All  his  people  for 
generations  had  been  Churchmen;  this  seemed  to 
him  to  be  the  right  thing  to  do,  the  thing  demanded 
of  a  gentleman ;  the  greatest  Gentleman  of  them  all, 
who  had  shown  His  breeding  on  a  Cross,  had  set 
the  example  of  self-sacrifice.  A  sentence  quoted  by 
the  chaplain  in  the  service  a  few  days  before,  which 
had  struck  his  fancy,  ran  in  his  head;  he  had  a  good 
memory. 

"  /  will  very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for  you  ; 
tJiough  tJie  more  abundantly  I  love  you,  the  less  I  be 
loved. " 

Yes,  that  was  it. 

At  the  first  moment,  when  he  found  last  night 
that  his  pleadings  were  of  no  avail,  and  that  O'Neill 
was  doomed  to  die,  his  heart  had  leaped  in  his 
breast  at  the  thought  that  his  rival  would  be  re 
moved;  but  he  had  crushed  the  thought  as  un 
worthy  a  gentleman  of  his  high  ideals;  and  there 
had  come  to  him,  in  addition,  a  consciousness  that 
to  a  love  like  Elizabeth  Howard's  the  death  of  a 
beloved  would  make  no  change.  Such  passions 
9  129 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

come  but  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  when  they  arrive 
they  are  as  eternal  as  the  stars.  He  had  given  her 
up,  and  she  belonged,  in  life  or  death,  to  another. 
A  glance  at  his  own  anguished  heart  enabled  him 
to  feel  for  her.  Time  would  not  soften  a  blow  to  a 
nature  like  to  hers. 

In  the  execution  of  O'Neill,  Coventry  saw  the 
death-warrant  of  Elizabeth.  He  had  passed  the  day 
racking  his  brain  and  thinking  of  some  way  to  delay 
the  execution,  but  without  avail.  He  would  have 
stopped  at  nothing  to  save  them  both.  In  despair 
he  had  come  to  consult  with  his  rival. 


130 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Almost  the  End 

"  T  AM  glad  to  see  you,  my  friend,"  said  O'Neill, 
smiling  at  him  in  a  melancholy  way. 

"  Would  God  that  I  could  see  you  in  any  place  but 
this ! "  answered  the  young  Englishman. 

"Ah,  yes!"  replied  O'Neill,  his  eyes  brighten 
ing;  "then  we  might  fight  it  out,  man  to  man, 
sword  to  sword,  and  — • " 

"Not  so,"  mournfully  replied  Coventry.  "The 
battle  has  been  fought,  and  you  have  won  again. 
Whether  you  live  or  die,  Elizabeth  Howard  is  not 
for  me." 

"  My  poor  friend,  may  the  day  upon  which  I 
crossed  your  paths  be  accursed !  I  have  brought  to 
each  of  you  nothing  but  sorrow,"  replied  the  young 
sailor,  sadly,  touched  at  the  other's  surrender. 

"It  was  fate,  O'Neill.  Do  not  reproach  yourself 
with  that.  All  day  long  I  have  been  striving  to 
think  of  some  means  to  delay  this  accursed  execu 
tion,  until  I  could  communicate  with  the  king.  An 
appeal  to  his  clemency  might  —  but  no  —  I  see  no 
way,  nothing,  unless  —  you  know  —  "  he  hesitated 
and  hung  his  head,  blushing  painfully. 

"No  more  of  that,  if  you  love  me,  Coventry,"  said 
O'Neill,  gravely.  "Put  yourself  in  my  place! 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

Could  you  do  it?  Ah,  you  shake  your  head,  you 
see !  Neither  could  I,  not  even  to  purchase  heaven." 
There  was  a  long  pause  between  them. 

"O'Neill,"  said  the  Englishman  at  last,  "would 
that  I  could  take  your  place  !  " 

"But  you  cannot,  Major  Coventry,"  replied  the 
other,  gratefully.  "  You  honor  me  in  the  thought ; 
but  if  you  could,  I  should  refuse  to  allow  it.  You 
are  the  better  man ;  all  my  life  I  have  been  a  gay, 
reckless,  pleasure-seeking  soldier  of  fortune,  with 
never  a  serious  purpose  until  now,  and  now  it  is  too 
late !  You  are  the  worthy  one,  and  you  must  live  to 
watch  over,  to  care  for  her  whom  we  both  love. 
Perhaps  —  surely  —  in  days  to  come  she  will  forget; 
time,  absence,  you  know  —  she  will  reward  your 
devotion,  she  must  —  you  will  be  happy  —  "  His 
voice  broke,  and  he  turned  away  his  face  and  looked 
out  of  the  open  port.  Coventry  shook  his  head. 

"  You  know  her  not,  sir.  She  is  not  for  me,  nor 
would  I  take  her  loving  you ;  my  love  is  too  deep  for 
that  —  nor  would  she  come.  She  will  never  forget 
you."  O'Neill's  heart  leaped  at  this  assurance. 

The  ship's  bell  on  the  deck  above  them  struck 
four  times;  it  was  six  o'clock!  There  was  a  little 
silence  within  the  screen. 

"The  hour  approaches,"  said  O'Neill,  softly,  at 
last.  "  I  would  be  alone  for  a  few  moments  before 
—  you  understand  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  rising  and  pressing  his 
hand.  "  Have  you  nothing  to  say,  no  message  to 
send  to  —  "  he  asked  magnanimously. 

132 


ALMOST  THE   END 

"  Nothing  —  nothing  —  't  is  best  so.  You  will 
come  for  me  at  the  time?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  will  stand  by  you  to  the  end,  like  a 
soldier." 

"You  do  me  great  honor,"  replied  the  other, 
thankfully.  Coventry  looked  at  him  a  moment, 
shook  his  head,  and  turned  away. 

In  the  prayers  of  the  young  Irishman  the  face  of 
the  girl  he  loved  would  obtrude  itself.  It  seemed 
but  a  moment  before  he  heard  the  tramp  of  armed 
men  coming  along  the  deck.  They  stopped  before 
the  screen.  It  was  opened,  and  Coventry,  pale  as 
death,  presented  himself  at  the  opening;  the  screen 
was  promptly  folded  back ;  there  were  marines  fully 
armed  before  it,  the  chaplain,  too,  in  the  white 
robes  of  his  office. 

"I  am  ready,  gentlemen,"  said  O'Neill,  calmly. 
"  May  I  not  go  to  my  death  unbound  ? "  he  asked. 

At  a  nod  from  Coventry,  the  master-at-arms  un 
locked  the  fetters  about  his  feet  and  hands.  The 
prisoner  took  his  place  in  the  midst  of  the  little 
squad  of  men,  and  ascended  to  the  spar-deck.  The 
ship's  company  of  marines  was  drawn  up  aft  on  the 
quarter-deck.  Most  of  the  seamen  of  the  crew  were 
arranged  in  orderly  ranks  in  the  starboard  gangway. 
Forward  a  grating  had  been  rigged  on  the  bulwarks 
under  the  port  fore-yard-arm.  A  new  rope  led  from 
the  grating,  up  through  the  block  in  the  yard-arm, 
came  inboard  to  another  block  under  the  top,  and 
thence  through  a  block  fixed  to  the  deck.  Some 
sixty  or  seventy  men  chosen  by  lot  from  the  ship's 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

company  had  hold  of  the  rope  which  was  led  aft 
along  the  port  gangway.  In  front  of  the  marines 
stood  Captain  Pearson  and  his  officers  in  full  uni 
form.  The  prisoner  was  halted  before  him. 

"Are  you  aware,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  gravely, 
"that  the  hour  for  the  carrying  out  of  the  sentence 
of  the  court  approaches  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  O'Neill,  courteously. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  before  that  time?  " 

"I  have  to  thank  you  all  for  your  kindness  to  me, 
nothing  else,  sir." 

"Allow  me,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  "to  assure 
you  of  the  great  personal  distaste  and  regret  I  feel 
at  being  compelled  to  take  this  action." 

"Your  feelings  do  you  honor,  sir,"  replied 
O'Neill,  gravely;  "but  it  is  a  matter  of  duty. 
Pray,  proceed." 

"Captain  Pearson,"  said  Coventry,  in  great  agi 
tation,  "can  nothing  be  done  to  delay  this  execution 
a  few  hours  ?  There  are  considerations,  sir,  in  my 
possession,  which  I  feel  sure  would  incline  his 
Majesty,  could  he  be  communicated  with,  to  ex 
tend  clemency  to  this  gentleman,  —  circumstances 
which  —  " 

"Are  these  circumstances  within  the  knowledge 
of  Lord  Westbrooke,  Major  Coventry?"  answered 
the  captain,  surprised  at  the  unusual  nature  of  the 
interruption. 

"They  are,  sir." 

"Have  you  mentioned  them  to  him?  Have  you 
called  his  attention  specifically  to  them,  I  mean?  " 


ALMOST  THE   END 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have,"  answered  the  soldier,  reluc 
tantly. 

"  And  they  have  evidently  not  influenced  him,  you 
see.  Therefore  I  fail  to  see  how  I  can  permit  them 
to  weigh  with  me." 

"But  a  delay,  sir,  of  a  day,  of  an  hour  even,  until 
I  can  communicate  with  the  admiral  again!  For 
God's  sake,  sir,  do  not  hang  this  gentleman  like  —  " 

"Major  Coventry,  you  are  a  soldier,  and  should 
not  make  such  an  appeal.  I  have  my  orders.  You 
have  shown  me  no  cause  to  disregard  them  ;  I  cannot 
take  it  upon  myself  to  do  so.  I  dare  not ! " 

"  But  an  hour,  sir,  until  I  —  " 

"  Not  a  moment !  At  five  bells  they  must  be 
carried  out,"  said  the  captain,  inflexibly.  "No 
more,  sir,"  he  added,  as  Coventry  made  an  impetuous 
step  forward.  "  I  have  indulged  you  too  long  al 
ready.  Mr.  Pascoe,  take  the  prisoner  forward. " 

"  It  is  useless,  Coventry.  Why  prolong  this 
agony  longer?  You  have  done  what  you  could.  I 
thank  you  and  bless  you,"  said  O'Neill,  as  they 
walked  along  the  deck  to  the  place  of  the  grating. 

"Will  you  please  to  step  up  here,  sir?"  said 
Pascoe,  the  first  lieutenant  of  the  Serapis,  who  had 
the  matter  in  charge,  pointing  to  the  grating  on  the 
rail  as  they  came  abreast  of  it. 

"  It  is  a  fair  and  easy  place  from  which  to  step  to 
heaven,  sir,  or  to  the  other  place  as  well,"  said  the 
Irishman,  smiling,  as  he  stepped  on  the  rail.  "I 
pray  you  to  tell  your  men  to  start  me  on  my  way 
with  a  quick  pull  and  a  swift  run."  Pascoe  nodded 

135 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

in  comprehension.     This  would  be  a  case  in  which 
speed  would  be  merciful. 

A  boatswain's  mate  now  stepped  up  beside  the 
prisoner,  and  bound  his  feet  and  hands  with  a  lash 
ing.  A  hangman's  knot  had  been  made  by  expert 
fingers  in  the  rope  leading  from  the  yard-arm,  and 
the  running  noose  was  quickly  cast  about  O'Neill's 
neck. 

"The  collar  of  an  ancient  order,  this,"  observed 
O'Neill,  still  smiling.  "And  now  one  last  request, 
sir,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  lieutenant. 

"  And  that  is  ?  " 

"Throw  away  that  black  cap,  sir.  Let  me  go 
with  my  eyes  open."  The  lieutenant  hesitated  a 
moment.  The  whole  ship's  company  was  filled  with 
admiration  for  the  intrepid  and  gallant  Irishman. 

"Do  it,  for  God's  sake,  Pascoe!"  whispered 
Coventry,  springing  up  alongside  O'Neill  and  the 
sailor,  who,  to  avoid  him,  stepped  back  and  stood  on 
the  rail  by  the  fore  shrouds. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there,  Major  Coventry  ? " 
answered  Pascoe. 

"  Nothing.  I  promised  to  stand  by  him  to  the 
last,"  replied  Coventry.  The  officer  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  threw  the  cap  into  the  water. 

"I  thank  you,"  said  O'Neill,  huskily.  "How 
much  time  is  there?" 

"About  two  minutes,  I  think,"  said  the  lieu 
tenant,  nervously. 

"You  will  run  away  with  the  fall  at  the  first  or 
last  stroke  of  the  bell  ?  " 

136 


ALMOST  THE   END 

"The  last,  sir." 

"No  more,"  said  O'Neill  to  Coventry,  turning 
his  face  in  the  direction  of  the  shore*  The  deep 
voice  of  the  white-robed  priest  alone  broke  the 
silence,  — 

" '  Thou  knowest,  Lord,  the  secrets  of  our  hearts  ; 
shut  not  Thy  merciful  ears  to  our  prayer;  but  spare  us, 
Lord  most  holy,  O  God  most  mighty,  O  holy  and  mer 
ciful  Saviour,  Thou  most  worthy  Judge  eternal,  suffer 
us  not,  at  our  last  hour,  for  any  pains  of  death,  to  fall 
from  Thee. 

Out  on  the  water  a  white-sailed  little  boat  was 
speeding  swiftly  toward  them.  There  was  a  woman 
in  it.  The  eyes  of  love,  even  in  the  presence  of 
death,  are  keen,  perhaps  even  keener  then  than  ever. 
It  was  Elizabeth  Howard.  O'Neill  recognized  her 
at  once.  Good  heavens!  Why  had  she  come  here? 
She  would  arrive  in  time  to  see  him  swinging  life 
less  from  the  yard-arm, — a  hideous  sight  for  any 
woman.  He  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  her. 

"See!"  he  whispered  to  Coventry,  "that  boat 
yonder;  she  is  there." 

"  My  God !  "  said  the  officer.    "  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"Nothing;  't  is  too  late." 

"  She  has  something  in  her  hand,"  cried  Coventry. 
"What  can  it  be?" 

"  Forward,  there ! "  cried  the  captain,  watch  in 
hand.  "Strike  the  bell  five!" 

The  mellow  tones  of  the  first  couplet  of  the 
ship's  bell  rang  out  in  obedience  to  the  command. 
The  hour  was  come !  It  was  his  death  signal,  but 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

O'Neill  never  turned  his  head  from  the  approaching 
boat.  The  old  quartermaster  struck  the  bell  delib 
erately,  lingering  over  it  reluctantly;  a  little  shiver 
ran  through  the  men. 

"  Stand  by!  "  shouted  the  lieutenant,  in  a  voice  he 
strove  in  vain  to  make  firm.  "  Make  a  quick  jerk 
and  a  lively  run,  lads,  for  God's  sake!  " 

The  men  grasped  the  rope  more  firmly,  sprang 
into  position  for  the  jump.  The  next  couplet  was 
struck  on  the  bell.  The  boat  was  nearer  now. 
Coventry  saw  that  the  woman  waved  something  that 
looked  like  a  paper  in  her  hand.  The  last  stroke 
of  the  bell  rang  out  on  the  breathless,  silent  ship. 

"Set  taut!"  cried  the  lieutenant,  hoarsely.  The 
men  leaped  forward  instantly  to  the  shrill  piping 
of  the  boatswain  and  his  mate.  "  Sway  away !  "  he 
cried. 

The  tightened  rope  caught  the  Irishman  by  the 
throat.  A  lightning  flash  seemed  to  cleave  the 
skies:  he  saw,  as  in  a  vision,  a  great  hall  hung  with 
arras,  a  picture  frame,  a  woman  radiant,  beautiful, 
her  eyes  shining;  an  upraised  hand;  like  silver 
bells  a  voice  murmured,  "I  love  him,  I  love  him." 
She  moved  —  ah,  a  gigantic  hand  caught  him  by  the 
throat;  he  strove  to  cry  out;  it  clutched  him  tighter 
and  tighter;  blackness  like  a  pall  fell  before  him, 
shutting  out  the  smiling  face  —  death  —  agony — • 
he  saw  no  more  —  he  swung  into  the  air  and  was 
nothing. 

The  quick  eye  of  Major  Coventry  had  detected,  at 
last,  what  the  girl  was  waving. 

138 


ALMOST  THE   END 

"That  paper,"  he  cried  frantically,  as  the  last 
bell  struck.  "It  must  be  a  reprieve;  the  admiral 
has  relented." 

Was  it  too  late  ?  Quick  as  thought  he  snatched 
the  sheath  knife  from  the  belt  of  the  sailor  near 
him.  It  was  too  late  to  stop  the  men  on  the  rope, 
even  had  he  possessed  the  power;  but  as  O'Neill 
rose  in  the  air,  he  caught  him  around  the  waist,  and 
with  one  rapid  blow  severed  the  straining  rope  above 
his  head.  Assisted  at  once  by  the  sailor  alongside 
of  him,  they  lowered  the  bound,  unconscious  man 
upon  the  deck  beneath  them.  It  was  all  done  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  men  on  the  ship 
broke  out  in  ringing  cheers. 

The  rope,  being  relieved  of  the  weight  of  the  body, 
of  course  ran  rapidly  through  the  block,  and  the  men 
hauling  it  pitched  pell-mell  over  themselves  upon 
the  deck.  There  was  a  moment  of  intense  excite 
ment.  The  seamen  on  the  other  side  of  the  deck, 
cheering  wildly,  started  eagerly  forward ;  the  officers, 
sword  in  hand,  sprang  in  front  of  them,  driving  them 
back.  The  marine  officer  aft  brought  his  men  at 
once  to  attention  with  a  sharp  word  or  two,  and 
every  piece  was  made  ready  in  case  of  disturbance. 
Pearson,  white  with  rage  at  the  interruption,  leaped 
forward. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  shouted. 
"Who  has  dared  to  interfere  in  this  manner?" 

"I,  sir,"  replied  Coventry,  fearlessly,  looking  up 
from  his  place  by  the  unconscious  man. 

"And  by   what   right,    sir?"    cried  the   enraged 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

captain.  "Though  you  be  the  son  of  the  admiral, 
you  shall  dearly  rue  this  unwarranted  assumption  of 
authority.  What  excuse  have  you  to  offer  for  inter 
rupting  the  sentence  of  a  court-martial?  What 
reason  can  you  urge  for  your  presumption?  " 

"  Boat  ahoy !  "  cried  a  seaman  stationed  at  the  port 
gangway. 

"Sir,"  said  Coventry,  quietly  meeting  the  eye  of 
the  thoroughly  infuriated  captain,  "  if  I  mistake  not, 
you  will  find  my  excuse  in  that  boat." 

"Well  for  you,  sir,  if  it  be  there!  Never,  in  my 
twenty  years  of  service,  have  I  been  so  braved,  and 
on  my  own  ship,  too.  See  what  boat  it  is,"  said  the 
captain,  turning  to  one  of  his  midshipmen,  "and  find 
out  what  is  wanted."  The  lad  came  running  back 
presently,  and  saluted. 

"  'T  is  a  lady,  sir,  — the  governor's  ward,  —  Lady 
Elizabeth  Howard;  she  wishes  to  come  on  board," 
he  said. 

"  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard  !  This  is  no  place  for 
women;  this  man  is  still  to  be  hanged.  What  can 
she  wish  ?  "  exclaimed  the  captain,  frowning. 

"Receive  her  at  once,  sir,  I  beg,"  said  Coventry. 
"She  has  a  paper, — my  excuse,  sir,"  he  added, 
smiling. 

"Show  her  on  board,"  said  the  captain,  shortly, 
to  the  midshipman.  Then  he  looked  down  on  the 
still,  unconscious  form  of  O'Neill.  "Send  a  sur 
geon  here  at  once,  sir,"  he  continued;  and  as  the 
latter  presented  himself,  "Is  the  man  dead?"  he 
asked. 

140 


ALMOST   THE   END 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  surgeon,  examining  him 
hastily,  and  making  ready  to  apply  some  necessary 
restoratives,  for  which  he  despatched  an  assistant  to 
the  sick-bay. 

"  Get  him  in  shape,  then,  and  quickly,  for  another 
attempt;  for  hang  he  shall,  if  he  has  to  be  held  up 
for  it,"  ordered  the  captain,  sternly. 

At  this  moment  the  midshipman,  followed  by 
Lady  Elizabeth,  pale  as  death,  a  blue  boat  cloak, 
which  belonged  to  her  guardian,  which  she  had 
caught  up  in  the  castle,  fluttering  in  the  breeze,  her 
hat  gone,  her  hair  dishevelled,  her  hand  clutching  a 
paper,  broke  through  the  little  group. 

"Captain  Pearson,  where  is  he?"  she  cried  ner 
vously  ;  then,  as  her  eyes  fell  on  the  prostrate  form 
of  O'Neill,  she  dropped  the  paper  to  the  deck,  cov 
ered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  rocked  to  and  fro 
in  agony.  "Oh,  my  love,  my  love!  Too  late!  too 
late!"  she  wailed,  faltering. 

"Not  so,  madam,"  said  the  captain,  turning 
toward  her.  "The  man  still  lives,  the  surgeon 
assures  me.  He  has  but  fainted.  Have  you  a  war 
rant  to  stop  the  execution  ?  K  not,  it  must  go  on, 
and  it  shall  go  hard  with  Major  Coventry  as  well." 

"The  prisoner  is  reprieved,  sir;  here  is  the 
paper,"  said  Elizabeth,  life  coming  back  to  her, 
"sealed  and  signed  by  the  admiral  himself.  Oh,  I 
had  it  a  moment  since  —  where  has  it  gone?" 

"Here  it  is,  your  Ladyship,"  said  one  of  the 
officers,  lifting  it  from  the  deck  and  handing  it  to 
her. 

141 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"  There ! "  she  said,  presenting  it  to  the  captain. 
He  opened  it  deliberately  and  glanced  over  the  brief 
contents.  She  watched  him  with  a  nervousness  she 
vainly  attempted  to  conceal.  Meanwhile  the  doctor 
had  succeeded  in  rousing  O'Neill.  The  first  glance 
of  his  eye  fell  on  Elizabeth,  and  nothing  else  he  saw. 

"Heaven  and  the  angels!"  he  murmured  faintly, 
not  yet  comprehending  the  position. 

"  It  seems  to  be  made  out  properly  and  duly 
signed  and  sealed,"  said  the  captain,  slowly,  — "a 
reprieve  for  the  prisoner  until  further  notice,  and 
permission  for  the  bearer  to  see  him  alone,"  he 
added  suspiciously.  There  was  a  little  pause.  He 
turned  the  paper  over  in  his  hand,  and  looked  sharply 
at  the  girl. 

"The  admiral  chooses  a  strange  messenger,"  he 
added.  "  I  cannot  say  if  this  be  regular  or  no.  His 
handwriting  is  unfamiliar  to  me.  I  do  not  recog 
nize  this ;  you  say  you  had  it  from  him,  madam  ? " 

Elizabeth  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak;  she 
only  bowed.  There  was  evidently  something  very 
suspicious  to  the  captain  in  the  whole  proceeding. 
The  signature  did  not  seem  just  right. 

"  Ah !  I  have  it  —  Major  Coventry !  "  he  cried 
suddenly. 

That  miserable  young  man,  sick  at  heart,  had 
shrunk  into  the  background  since  Elizabeth  had 
come  aboard,  and  the  girl  had  not  seen  him  before. 
He  had  felt  that  his  work  was  done  when  she  ap 
peared  ;  but,  no,  he  was  to  find  out  that  his  troubles 
had  but  just  begun. 

142 


ALMOST  THE   END 

"  Oh ! "  she  cried,  as  he  stepped  forward,  clutching 
him  wildly  by  the  arm,  a  look  of  terror  in  her  eyes, 
as  she  added,  in  a  whisper,  "  not  you  —  I  had  for 
gotten  you  —  we  are  lost ! "  In  the  bitter  knowledge 
that  she  had  forgotten  him,  he  overlooked  the  clue 
to  her  action  furnished  by  her  last  words. 

"Here  is  a  reprieve  from  the  admiral,"  said  the 
captain.  "  It  seems  to  be  correct,  and  yet  —  will 
you  look  over  it  and  give  me  your  opinion  ?  you 
are  familiar  with  his  writing,  at  any  rate.  My 
Lady,  forgive  the  questioning,  but  the  matter  is  most 
serious,  and  I  must  be  absolutely  assured." 

"Here  is  the  paper,  Edward,"  said  Elizabeth, 
desperately,  taking  it  from  the  captain's  outstretched 
hand.  "Is  not  that  the  writing  of  the  admiral?" 
she  added  entreatingly,  and  then  clasping  her  hands, 
she  looked  at  him  with  all  her  soul  in  her  eyes  and 
waited,  full  of  apprehension.  A  word,  and  he 
hanged  her  lover,  and  incidentally,  but  surely, 
killed  her;  a  word,  and  he  set  them  free!  What 
the  consequences  to  himself  of  his  decision  might 
be,  with  the  sublime  egotism  of  love  for  another, 
she  neither  knew  nor  questioned.  Coventry  gave  a 
brief  glance  at  the  document;  he  saw  what  was 
expected  of  him ;  his  life  or  her  happiness  trembled 
in  the  balance;  true  to  his  determination,  he  did 
not  hesitate  a  moment.  In  that  glance  of  a  single 
second  he  realized  the  truth,  which  he  had  more 
than  suspected  before. 

"  It  is,"  he  replied  briefly  and  indifferently  aloud. 
A  little  prayer  to  God  for  forgiveness  leaped  within 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

his  heart  at  the  falsehood.  He  had  connived  at  her 
deceit,  failed  in  his  soldierly  duty,  broken  his  honor 
—  for  this  woman.  The  reputation  of  a  lifetime  of 
loyal  service  to  his  king,  the  honorable  record  of 
years  of  devotion  to  duty  had  been  thrown  away  in  a 
moment  for  her.  He  had  sacrificed  more  than  life 
itself  for  his  love  —  and  she  loved  another !  He 
turned  the  paper  over  in  his  hand  and  then  quietly 
returned  it  to  the  captain.  He  said  no  other  word, 
he  scarcely  even  looked  at  Elizabeth.  He  could  not 
trust  his  own  gaze.  There  might  be  reproach  in  it. 
And  he  would  fain  make  the  sacrifice  like  a  gentle 
man  at  least. 

"Thank  God  —  thank  God  —  "  whispered  Eliza 
beth,  under  her  breath;  and  the  look  of  gratitude 
she  flashed  at  him  would  have  gone  far  to  repay 
even  a  greater  sacrifice  —  perhaps. 

The  keen  captain  was  not  yet  satisfied,  however. 

"You  wished  to  release  him  yourself,  I  remem 
ber,"  he  said  uncertainly.  "I  am  by  no  means  per 
suaded  that  —  but  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  proceed 
now  until  I  have  seen  the  admiral.  Take  the 
prisoner  below,"  he  said  to  the  guard,  "and  allow 
Lady  Elizabeth  to  see  him  alone.  Mr.  Pascoe,  tell 
the  boatswain  to  pipe  down,  and  call  the  watch." 


144 


CHAPTER   XV 
A  Soldier  and  a  Gentleman 

ACCOMPANIED  by  the  marine  guard,  and 
leaning  upon  the  arms  of  the  surgeon  and 
Coventry,  who  tenderly  assisted  his  faltering  steps, 
O'Neill  was  taken  below,  followed  by  Elizabeth, 
scarcely  yet  comprehending  what  had  happened. 
The  girl's  heart  was  exulting  madly.  So  far  she 
had  triumphed.  What  next?  When  they  reached 
the  little  screened  enclosure  between  the  guns,  in 
which  O'Neill  had  been  confined,  the  guard  saluted 
and  released  the  prisoner.  He  had  not  been  ironed 
again,  and  by  some  oversight  no  one,  in  the  confu 
sion  following  the  reprieve,  called  attention  to  it. 
As  he  stepped  within  the  screen,  and  Elizabeth 
prepared  to  follow  him,  Coventry  interrupted  her  by 
holding  out  his  hand  with  a  mute  glance.  Was  she 
going  to  pass  him  by  without  a  single  word  of  grati 
tude,  of  farewell  even  ? 

"Oh!"  she  said,  with  unconscious  cruelty  which 
pierced  his  heart,  for  this  was  the  second  time,  "  I 
forgot  you."  And  then,  as  if  repenting  for  the  sit 
uation,  and  to  make  amends  for  that  forgetfulness, 
which  was,  to  say  the  least,  most  ungrateful,  in  spite 
of  the  presence  of  the  seamen  and  marines,  she 
10  I4S 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR* 

seized  his  hand,  drew  him  toward  her,  and  pressed  a 
long,  sweet  kiss  upon  his  forehead. 

"God  bless  you  for  what  you  did,"  she  whispered. 

"What  you  do,  do  quickly,"  he  replied.  "I  will 
replace  the  sentry ;  you  will  be  safe.  God  grant  you 
may  succeed.  'T  was  bravely  done;  good-bye." 

"Good-bye;  we  shall  not  forget  you,"  she  said 
hurriedly,  withdrawing  within  the  screen.  And 
this  was  the  only  reward  he  received  for  his  sacri 
fice.  By  his  direction  the  sentry  on  guard  withdrew 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  deck,  and  he  himself 
mounted  guard  in  front  of  the  canvas.  With  what 
feelings  he  paced  to  and  fro  in  front  of  that  little 
strip  of  cloth  which  alone  separated  him  from  the 
woman  he  loved,  in  the  arms  of  the  man  who  loved 
her  —  and  he  had  put  her  there! 

As  soon  as  she  entered  the  enclosure,  Elizabeth 
threw  herself  in  the  arms  of  the  bewildered  O'Neill. 

"  Oh !  "  she  whispered,  "  you  are  saved  —  saved  — 
and  through  me  !  " 

"No,  dearest,  not  yet,"  replied  he,  straining  her 
to  his  heart  and  kissing  her  fondly.  "  I  scarcely 
yet  understand  it  all ;  but  if  I  heard  aright,  't  is  but 
a  reprieve  until  to-morrow;  build  no  hope  upon  it." 

"We  will  not  wait  for  the  morrow,  my  dearest," 
she  answered  softly,  "  for  the  boat  swings  under  the 
counter  yonder.  When  night  falls  and  it  is  quite 
dark,  we  will  slip  out  of  the  port  and  go  away 
together;  in  a  few  moments  it  will  be  time." 

The  Irishman  caught  eagerly  at  the  suggested 
idea.  It  was  full  of  improbability,  but  it  did  pre- 
146 


A   SOLDIER  AND   A   GENTLEMAN 

sent  a  bare  possibility  of  escape  if  they  were  for 
tunate. 

"Very  good,"  he  whispered,  "excellent;  but  the 
sentry  there? " 

"  We  will  wait  until  there  is  some  bustle  on  the 
deck,"  she  answered,  "and  in  the  confusion  and 
noise  they  will  not  hear;  at  any  rate,  we  must  risk 
it."  Something  told  her  she  would  better  not  in 
form  him  that  Coventry  was  keeping  watch. 

"  How  did  you  prevail  upon  the  admiral  to  grant 
the  reprieve  ? "  he  asked,  after  another  pause,  not 
unemployed,  however. 

"I — well,  you  see  —  oh,  I  scarcely  know  how; 
the  admiral  loves  me,  you  know  —  I  cannot  explain 
it.  It  seems  like  a  bewildering,  frightful  dream  to 
me,"  said  the  girl,  passing  her  hand  over  her  hair 
and  turning  a  shade  paler  as  she  spoke,  and  studi 
ously  avoiding  his  eye.  "  Do  not  speak  of  it  now. 
You  are  safe  for  the  moment  —  you  saw  the  paper  — 
Edward  also  —  it  was  all  right.  Let  that  suffice." 

He  soothed  her  with  tender  words  and  loving 
caresses ;  the  sound  of  them  was  death  to  the  pale- 
faced  young  man,  alone  with  his  own  broken  thoughts 
on  the  other  side  of  the  screen.  Unheeded  the 
night  came  stealing  over  the  harbor,  lights  in  the 
town  twinkled  here  and  there,  the  boatswain's 
whistle  rang  out  between  decks  on  the  frigate. 
There  was  a  call,  a  hoarse  cry  or  two,  a  hurrying  of 
feet,  a  little  confusion. 

"Now  is  the  time,"  said  Elizabeth,  releasing  her 
self  from  his  unwilling  arms,  and  looking  out 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

through  the  port.  "The  man  is  watching;  I  met 
him  on  the  strand  as  I  was  seeking  for  a  boat  to 
bring  me  out  to  you.  He  is  faithful;  he  says  he 
knows  you  —  has  served  under  you." 

"Knows  me!"  said  O'Neill,  surprised,  thrusting 
his  head  through  the  open  port.  There,  right 
beneath  him,  a  little  skiff  was  being  brought  up 
deftly  and  without  noise,  from  where  it  had  lain 
unnoticed  under  the  counter,  in  the  contusion  since 
the  girl's  arrival.  The  side  of  the  ship  was  in  deep 
shadow,  and  the  broad  main  chains  extending  over 
their  heads,  above  the  ports,  further  concealed  them 
from  notice. 

Gathering  her  skirts  about  her,  Elizabeth  slipped 
first  through  the  port.  O'Neill  held  her  firmly 
until  the  man  below  lifted  her  gently  into  the  stern 
of  the  boat.  Noiselessly,  and  as  quickly  as  pos 
sible,  O'Neill  followed  her.  By  Elizabeth's  direc 
tion,  he  lay  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  she 
covered  him  entirely  with  her  boat  cloak.  The  man 
in  the  bows,  whom  O'Neill  had  not  recognized  in 
the  shadow,  and  who  had  said  nothing,  slowly 
worked  the  boat  back  under  the  counter  again; 
then,  with  a  strong  thrust,  shoved  her  clear  of  the 
ship.  The  flooding  tide  carried  them  slowly  away. 
In  a  few  moments  he  cautiously  got  out  his  oars, 
and  by  a  very  gentle  pulling  added  a  little  to  the 
way  of  the  boat. 

The  ear  of  the  watchful  Coventry  had  at  once 
apprised  him  of  their  departure.  He  could  scarcely 
resist  the  temptation  to  enter  the  screen,  —  to  call 

148 


A   SOLDIER   AND   A   GENTLEMAN 

them  back  that  he  might  see  her  once  again.  But 
he  had  duty  to  do.  So  soon  as  he  was  persuaded 
that  they  had  left  the  ship,  he  called  the  sentry 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  deck,  and  told  him  to 
mount  guard  again,  and  on  no  account  to  disturb 
the  prisoners.  Then  he  ran  rapidly  up  to  the 
quarter-deck,  and  made  his  way  aft  to  the  marine  on 
guard  there.  The  man  was  looking  out  into  the 
darkness  at  a  dark  blur  on  the  water,  —  a  boat ;  two 
figures  could  be  distinguished  in  it,  one  of  them  a 
woman ;  Coventry  saw  them  at  once,  and  as  he 
looked  they  disappeared,  —  the  last  sight  of  her,  he 
thought  bitterly.  The  marine  had  just  opened  his 
mouth  to  give  the  alarm,  when  the  clear  voice  of  the 
officer  rang  in  his  ear. 

"  Sentry !  "  said  Coventry.  The  man  instinctively 
sprang  to  attention  at  once,  and  for  the  moment 
forgot  the  boat. 

"  Have  you  seen  any  signals  from  the  castle?  " 

"No,  sir;  but  I  seen  a  little  boat  off  there  that 
looked  suspicious  like." 

"Whereabouts  did  you  see  it?  " 

"There,  sir,  right  off  there." 

"No,"  said  Coventry,  straining  his  eyes  through 
the  darkness.  "There  is  no  boat  there.  You  have 
been  mistaken,  I  think,"  he  added  indifferently, 
his  gaze  still  fixed  on  the  place  where  they  had 
drifted  away  and  disappeared.  He  knew  what  was 
coming,  since  they  had  gone.  He  must  pay  for  it, 
so  he  leaned  on  the  rail  and  waited.  A  few  moments 
later,  a  large  barge,  full  manned,  darted  out  of  the 

149 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

darkness,  coming  toward  the  ship.     Coventry  knew 
what  it  was,  of  course. 

"Boat  ahoy!"  shouted  the  watchful  sentry  at  the 
gangway. 

"Flag,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  admiral  dashed 
alongside.  Almost  before  the  officer  of  the  watch 
could  reach  the  gangway  the  old  man  clambered  to 
the  deck. 

"Good-evening,  sir,"  he  said,  in  response  to  the 
former's  salutation.  "  Captain  Pearson  ?  " 

"  I  have  sent  for  him,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  officer, 
and  the  next  moment  the  captain  himself  came  bus 
tling  out  of  the  darkness  to  do  honor  to  the  old 
admiral. 

"Ah,  Captain  Pearson,  good-evening." 

"Good-evening  to  your  Lordship." 

"The  prisoner  I  sent  off  —  he  has  been  duly  exe 
cuted,  I  presume?  " 

"  Why,  no,  sir ! "  said  the  captain,  alarmed  at  this 
confirmation  of  his  suspicions.  "We  were  about 
ready  to  carry  out  the  sentence ;  the  command  to 
sway  aloft  had  been  given,  in  fact,  when  we  received 
your  reprieve." 

"My  reprieve!"  said  the  admiral,  in  great  sur 
prise.  "What  mean  you?  I  sent  no  reprieve." 

"Sir,  sir!"  cried  the  astonished  captain.  "  It  was 
brought  here  by  your  ward,  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard." 

"Elizabeth!  Good  God!"  cried  the  old  man, 
starting  violently.  "  Her  maid  said  she  was  ill  — 
she  must  have  —  did  you  inspect  it  carefully,  sir?  " 
he  asked,  checking  himself. 


A   SOLDIER  AND   A   GENTLEMAN 

"  Yes,  my  Lord.  It  seemed  to  be  all  right ;  but 
the  whole  proceeding  was  so  irregular  and  unlike 
you  that  I  called  upon  —  ' 

"Where  is  the  paper?"  cried  the  admiral,  inter 
rupting  impatiently. 

"I  have  just  sent  to  fetch  it,  sir." 

They  waited  in  silence,  until  a  midshipman  placed 
it  in  the  hand  of  the  admiral.  Pascoe  held  a  light 
while  the  old  man  seized  it,  scrutinized  it  eagerly, 
and  handed  it  back  to  the  captain. 

"This,"  he  said  slowly,  "is  a  forgery.  You 
should  have  disregarded  it,  sir." 

"  'T  was  passed  upon  by  your  son  and  aide,  Major 
Coventry,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  captain,  shortly. 

"  How !     Edward  !     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"Here,  my  Lord,"  said  the  young  man,  stepping 
forward,  pale  as  death,  and  saluting. 

"Did  you  examine  this  paper,  sir?  " 

"I  did,  sir." 

"  You  knew  it  was  a  forgery?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  yet  you  declared  it  to  be  correct?  " 

"I  did,  sir." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  " 

"Will  you  direct  these  others  to  retire  out  of 
hearing,  Captain  Pearson  ?  "  said  Coventry,  indi 
cating  the  officer  of  the  watch,  the  midshipman, 
and  all  of  the  others;  and  when  his  request  had 
been  complied  with,  he  added:  "'Twas  to  save 
the  honor  of  your  ward,  my  Lord,  to  insure  hap 
piness  to  the  woman  I  love  more  than  life,  to  effect 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

the  escape  of  the  man  upon  whom  that  happiness 
depended." 

"Have  you  dared,  sir,"  said  the  admiral,  furious 
with  rage,  "to  thus  derange  my  plans  and  disregard 
my  orders,  to  thwart  me,  to  interfere  between  a 
duly  constituted  court  and  its  prisoner?"  He 
stamped  his  foot  and  looked  fiercely  at  his  son. 

"Me  as  well,"  said  the  captain;  "upon  the  deck 
of  my  own  ship  —  to  put  this  dishonor  upon  me." 

"  The  prisoner !"  cried  the  admiral,  impetuously. 
"  Have  him  brought  on  deck  at  once,  Captain 
Pearson." 

"But  your  ward,  my  Lord;  she  is  with  him,"  said 
the  captain.' 

"Bring  her  too,  then,"  the  old  man  answered 
passionately. 

"  But  the  crew  —  the  men  —  not  before  them  all !  " 
said  Coventry,  striving  to  gain  time. 

"Before  Heaven  itself  the  offence  was  given," 
said  the  admiral,  losing  all  control  over  himself  in 
his  fury,  "and  the  punishment  shall  have  equal 
publicity."  The  midshipman  who  had  hastened 
below  now  came  running  on  deck  in  terror. 

"There's  no  one  there,  my  Lord;  they've  gone, 
escaped,  sir!"  he  cried. 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  Pearson. 

"  Escaped  1"  said  the  admiral,  turning  to  the  cap 
tain.  "Had  you  no  sentry  to  watch  them,  sir?" 

"Yes,  my  Lord,  certainly,"  said  Pearson. 

"  Let  him  be  tried  and  shot  forthwith,  then,  for 
gross  neglect  of  duty  in  permitting  —  " 

152 


A   SOLDIER   AND   A   GENTLEMAN 

"My  Lord,  the  sentry  is  innocent,"  interrupted 
Coventry;  "I  replaced  him;  I  alone  am  guilty." 

"Worse  and  worse!  You  knew  they  escaped, 
sir?"  said  the  admiral. 

"I  did;  'twas  to  prevent  discovery  I  took  his 
place,"  replied  his  son,  bowing.  Captain  Pearson 
opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  his  superior  silenced 
him  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

A  bitter  fight  raged  in  the  old  man's  bosom,  but 
he  saw  his  duty,  and  knew  it  must  be  done.  There 
was  a  long  and  awful  pause.  When  the  admiral 
spoke  again  it  was  in  an  altered  tone;  he  had  re 
gained  his  self-control. 

"Captain  Pearson,"  he  said  slowly  and  deliber 
ately,  in  a  strained  and  unnatural  voice,  "  let  the 
court-martial  which  passed  judgment  upon  the 
prisoner  be  re -convened  at  once  to  try  Major  Edward 
Coventry  for  disobedience  of  orders  in  time  of  war, 
and  for  aiding  and  abetting  the  escape  of  an  enemy, 
and  for  knowingly  declaring  a  forged  order,  purport 
ing  to  bear  my  signature,  to  be  correct,  — •  in  short, 
for  conduct  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentleman." 

"  Surely  not  that  last,  my  Lord,"  said  Coventry, 
impulsively  raising  his  hand  in  deprecation. 

The  admiral  hesitated,  looked  long  and  earnestly 
at  his  handsome  son.  "  You  may  leave  off  the  part 
about  conduct  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentle 
man,  Pearson,"  he  answered. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Coventry,  gratefully. 

"Good  heavens,  my  Lord!"  cried  Pearson;  "the 
punishment  is  death  —  I  pray  you  —  " 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Silence,  sir!"  he  cried  sternly;  "you  have  your 
order.  Shall  I  be  more  merciful  to  this  gentleman 
than  to  the  poor  marine  I  would  have  had  shot  a 
moment  since  for  less  than  he  has  done?" 

"But  he  is  your  son.  Have  mercy  on  him,  my 
Lord ! " 

"  So  much  the  more  imperative  that  he  should 
receive  justice  —  not  mercy  from  me.  Besides,  from 
this  hour  he  is  no  longer  son  of  mine,"  said  the 
old  man,  inflexibly.  "  Let  the  prisoner  be  confined 
under  double  guard;  you  will  see  that  he  at  least 
does  not  escape  you." 

"It  is  just,"  said  Coventry,  no  less  resolutely 
than  his  father;  "I  expected  it.  It  was  for  her  I 
did  it." 

There  was  a  sudden  bustle  upon  the  deck  for 
ward. 

"  Sail  ho  !  Light  ho !  Light  ho  !  "  rang  out  from 
a  dozen  rough  throats. 

"Where  away?  "  said  the  officer  of  the  watch. 

"Off  the  starboard  quarter,"  was  the  reply, — 
"there,  coming  up  from  Flamborough  Head." 

"They  will  be  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  and  the 
rest  of  that  scoundrelly  pirate  squadron,  Captain 
Pearson.  I  saw  them  off  Bridlington  Bay  this  after 
noon,"  said  the  admiral. 

"  We  will  go  out  and  meet  them  at  once,  with 
your  permission,  my  Lord,"  cried  the  captain,  enthu 
siastically.  "All  hands  up  anchor!  Mr.  Pascoe, 
show  the  signal  for  the  Scarborough  to  get  under 
way.  Lively !  we  have  him  now,  men  !  This  is  our 


A   SOLDIER  AND   A   GENTLEMAN 

chance  at  last !  There  's  prize  money  and  honor  for 
you  by  yonder  lights  !  " 

With  wild  cheers  the  eager  crew  broke  for  their 
stations.  The  capstan  bars  were  shipped  and  manned, 
and  the  clanking  pawls  clicked  merrily  as  the  men 
heaved  away  as  lustily  as  a  crew  homeward  bound 
from  a  foreign  station. 

"Good  luck  to  you,  Captain  Pearson,"  said  the 
admiral,  turning  away.  "  Bring  him  back  a  prisoner 
or  sink  him,  and  I  will  pledge  you  my  word  your 
king's  sword  shall  be  laid  upon  your  shoulders. 
Would  that  I  were  younger  and  might  go  with  you ! 
but  my  duties,  as  well,  prevent  me.  Good-bye." 

"Sir — my  Lord  —  my  father!"  said  Coventry,  who 
had  stood  unnoticed  in  the  excitement  of  the 
moment. 

"Do  I  see  you  still  here,  sir?"  answered  the 
admiral,  coldly. 

"  I  would  ask  a  favor  of  you,  sir  —  as  —  as  —  as  my 
father." 

"  Ask  no  favors  of  a  father,  sir;  you  have  none  !  " 

"Let  me  beg  of  the  man,  then,"  said  Coventry, 
resolutely.  "  We  are  about  to  engage  the  enemy. 
For  God's  sake,  sir,  for  the  love  of  my  mother,  do 
not  condemn  me  to  inaction  now!  Let  me  serve 
as  the  humblest  volunteer!  You  shall  not  regret 
it." 

The  old  man  hesitated.  He  was  a  father  in  spite 
of  what  he  had  said,  and  he  could  not  forget  it.  His 
heart  was  throbbing  beneath  his  iron  exterior  and 
appearance  of  outward  composure. 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Go!"  he  replied  at  last.     "You  are  free  of  any 
charges  until  to-morrow.     When  next  I  see  you    I 
shall  have  to  prefer  them,  therefore  let  me  not  look  • 
upon  your  face  again,  sir.      Do  you  understand?  " 

"Yes,  yes;  good-bye,  sir!"  said  the  young  man, 
brokenly.  "  I  thank  you  and  bless  you  for  this. 
To-morrow  I  shall  plead  my  cause  in  a  higher  court. 
Think  of  me  kindly,  sir." 

"  And  you  have  done  this  work  and  wrecked  your 
self  for  a  woman!  You  have  been  a  fool,  sir;  what 
woman  that  ever  lived  was  worth  it?"  said  the 
admiral,  shortly. 

"This  one,"  replied  his  son.  "I  loved  her;  I  love 
her  still." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  in  silence. 
The  admiral  relented  a  little, — it  was  for  the  last 
time, — and  drew  the  boy  to  him.  He  lifted  his 
head  to  the  sky  in  silent  prayer. 

"All  hands  make  sail!"  hoarsely  cried  the  boat 
swain  at  the  instance  of  the  executive  officer.  "  Lay 
aloft,  topman ! " 

The  admiral  turned  away,  and  Coventry  was  alone. 
He  walked  over  to  Captain  Pearson. 

"Father  gives  me  a  chance  to  die,"  he  said. 
"Please  assign  me  to  some  duty." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  captain,  his  face 
lighting  up.  "We  are  short  a  lieutenant;  I  confide 
to  you  the  forward  division  of  the  main-deck  battery. 
Do  your  best  with  it." 

"I  hope  to  serve  it  well,"  said  the  young  officer, 
saluting  proudly,  and  springing  toward  his  station. 

156 


A   SOLDIER   AND   A   GENTLEMAN 

"Anchor's  away,  sir!"  cried  the  officer  forward 
on  the  forecastle. 

"  Man  the  topsail  sheets  and  halliards,  let  fall, 
sheet  home,  hoist  away ! "  roared  the  captain,  him 
self  seizing  the  trumpet.  As  the  broad  folds  of  can 
vas  dropped  from  the  wide-reaching  yard-arms,  the 
noble  ship  gathered  way  and  sailed  out  to  try  her 
fortune. 


BOOK    IV 

THE   SELFISHNESS   OF    LOVE 


CHAPTER   XVI 
In  the  Line  of  his  Duty 

AS  soon  as  they  had  drifted  some  little  distance 
from  the  Serapis,  O'Neill  rose,  threw  off  the 
boat  cloak,  and  stepped  aft  around  the  oarsman  to 
the  stern-sheets  of  the  boat,  where  Elizabeth  sat 
motionless,  holding  the  tiller.  He  knelt  down 
before  her. 

"Elizabeth,  dearest,  we  have  actually  escaped!" 
he  said  softly,  stooping  toward  her.  "  I  did  not 
think  it  possible."  She  released  the  tiller,  took  his 
head  in  her  hands,  and  kissed  him  in  wild  exulta 
tion. 

"Free!  Free!"  she  murmured,  "and  together  — 
my  own,  my  own ! "  Her  words,  her  look,  her 
caress,  set  his  blood  bounding  again. 

"Yes,  yes;  is  it  not  heavenly,  and  with  you.  Oh, 
my  soul,  how  can  I  repay  you?"  he  whispered,  giv 
ing  back  kiss  for  kiss,  and  stretching  out  his  hands 
toward  her.  There  was  a  little  pause,  broken  by  a 
rough  voice,  which  its  owner  evidently  tried  to 
render  more  gentle;  in  a  hoarse  whisper  the  man  at 
the  oars  asked,  — 

"Where  are  ye  a-headin'  of  the  boat,  yer  Leddy- 
ship?" 

ii  161 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"I  know  not!"  she  answered  wildly,  seizing  the 
tiller  again ;  "  only  away  from  that  awful  ship !  " 

"  Who  is  this  man  at  the  oars  ?  "  asked  her  lover, 
rising  and  sitting  down  by  her  when  he  took  the 
tiller  from  her  nervous  hands. 

"Well,  yer  Honor,"  said  a  low,  deep  voice,  with 
a  smothered  laugh  in  it,  "  my  name  ashore,  w'ere  I 
was  left  by  Cap'n  Jones  t'other  night  to  look  arter 
you,  mought  be  Smith,  or  Brown,  or  any  old  name; 
but  yere  in  this  boat  it  's  Price —  William  P.  Price 
-w'ich  is  wot  my  mother  told  me,  at  any  rate, 
though  I  ain't  got  no  evidence  but  her  word  fur  it, 
an'  she's  dead,  an'  God  be  thanked  I  see  yer  Honor 
alive.5' 

"Price!  You!"  exclaimed  O'Neill,  in  great  sur 
prise.  "How  did  you  find  him,  dearest?" 

"I  found  her,  please  yer  Honor,"  replied  the  man. 
"I  seed  her  Leddyship  a-comin'  down  to  the  beach, 
an'  I  ups  and  captures  a  small  boat  from  the  Eng 
lish,  w'ich  the  man '11  be  awful  disappinted  like, 
w'en  he  don't  find  her  to-morrow,  an'  then  I  ups  and 
offers  to  take  her  off,  an'  I  tells  her  I  knows  you, 
an'  we  fixed  it  up,  and  here  y'  are !  " 

They  were  not  yet  so  far  from  the  Serapis,  even 
by  this  time,  but  that  the  quick  ear  of  the  girl 
detected  the  confusion  on  her  decks :  the  shrill 
piping  of  the  boatswain  and  his  mates,  the  sharp 
commands  of  the  officers,  the  trampling  of  many 
feet,  were  easily  heard;  she  clutched  her  lover 
nervously,  all  alert  at  the  thought  of  a  possible 
further  danger  to  him. 

162 


IN   THE   LINE   OF   HIS   DUTY 

"  Oh  !  "  she  whispered,  "  they  are  doing  something 
on  the  ship.  Our  escape  is  discovered.  They  will 
come  after  us  ! " 

"  Not  with  the  whole  ship,"  he  answered,  smiling, 
though  listening  with  straining  apprehension  as 
well. 

"I  think  they're  a-gittin'  under  way,  sir,"  said 
the  old  seaman.  "  Listen  to  the  clankin'  o'  the 
pawls,  yer  Honor." 

"You  are  right;  it  cannot  be  after  us,  though;  a 
cutter  or  two  would  suffice  for  that." 

"It'll  be  fur  the  Richard  an'  the  rest  of  'em. 
Cap'n  Jones,  he  said  he  'd  capture  them  ships  afore 
the  mornin'  watch,  an'  if  you  wasn't  hung  afore  that 
time,  he'd  trice  up  the  whole  d — n  —  w'ich  I  beg 
pardon,  yer  Leddyship,  but  he  said  it  —  crowd  to  the 
yard-arms,  unless  they'd  let  you  go  free!  Our 
wessels  ought  to  be  a-comin'  up  from  Flamburry 
putty  soon,  now.  But  if  I  mought  make  so  bold, 
w'ere  are  ye  headin'  fur  now,  sir?" 

"We  head  for  the  Richard,  of  course,"  said  the 
young  man,  promptly. 

"That's  w'ere  we  b'long,"  said  the  sailor,  joy 
fully;  "I  don't  want  no  fightin'  goin'  on,  an'  I  ain't 
there ! " 

"Nor  I,"  replied  O'Neill.  "I  would  put  you 
ashore,  Elizabeth,  before  we  go;  but — •" 

"'Whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go;  thy  people 
shall  be  my  people,'  "  she  quoted  softly.  "Whom 
have  I  now  but  you?  To  whom  can  I  go  but  to 
you?"  she  murmured,  laying  her  hand  upon  his 

163 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

own.  It  was  dark  on  the  boat,  but  if  it  had  been 
broad  daylight  he  could  not  have  helped  it,  —  he 
kissed  her. 

"  Oh,  to  be  worthy  of  it  all,  to  be  worthy ! "  he 
answered. 

William  grinned  sympathetically,  wiped  his  mouth 
wistfully  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  tried  to 
look  away.  Presently,  unshipping  the  oars,  the  two 
men  stepped  the  mast  and  hoisted  the  small  sail. 
The  little  boat,  under  the  freshening  breeze,  began 
to  draw  through  the  water  rapidly.  In  order  to  win 
out  of  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  they  would  have  to 
pass  in  a  direction  which  would  bring  them  once 
more  near  the  moving  Serapis.  They  could  hardly 
hope  to  escape  discovery.  They  had,  of  course, 
gained  a  good  start  on  the  frigate ;  but  as  she  was 
soon  covered  with  sails,  and  her  great  height  en 
abled  her  to  catch  the  freshening  breeze  blowing 
over  the  hills,  which  was  lost  to  the  smaller  craft, 
she  literally  rushed  down  upon  them. 

A  noble  picture  she  made  to  those  on  the  boat. 
Ghostlike  and  eerie  in  the  pale  moonlight,  shining 
fitfully  through  the  overcast  heavens,  the  great 
white  ship  towered  above  them,  her  soaring  masts 
covered  with  clouds  of  snowy  canvas  stretching  far 
out  on  either  side  on  the  spreading  yard-arms.  Her 
sails  swept  the  skies;  her  keel  ploughed  the  deeps; 
the  wind  sang  in  the  top-hamper;  the  white  water, 
shot  with  sparks,  piled  up  in  front  of  her,  bubbled 
and  played  around  her  forefoot,  and  rolled  away  on 
either  side  in  broad  sheets  of  foamy  phosphorescence. 

164 


IN   THE   LINE   OF   HIS   DUTY 

The  yellow  lights  of  the  battle  lanterns  streamed 
through  her  open  ports;  a  drum  was  grimly  rolling 
the  call  to  battle  on  her  decks.  Dark  forms  passed 
to  and  fro;  men  leaped  hither  and  thither  in  casting 
loose  the  double  row  of  great  black  guns;  sometimes 
a  vivid  flash  in  the  moonlight  proclaimed  a  drawn 
sword.  Presently  the  cries  and  orders  died  away; 
the  men  settled  down  at  their  stations;  silently  the 
huge  fabric,  a  splendid  example  of  that  power  which 
for  twice  two  hundred  years  had  ruled  the  seas, 
swept  toward  them.  O'Neill  watched  her  in  gener 
ous  admiration. 

"A  fit  antagonist  even  for  our  great  captain,"  he 
cried,  all  his  enthusiasm  aroused  by  the  ship,  "and 
nobly  handled,"  he  added.  "Mark  the  discipline; 
see  the  order ! " 

"Ay,  sir,  that  '11  be  a  hard  one  to  take;  but  we  '11 
take  her,  never  fear ! "  said  the  old  seaman,  sharing 
his  officer's  ungrudging  approbation  of  their  gallant 
foe. 

"How  can  you  speak  so?"  said  the  girl.  "To 
me  she  is  nothing  but  a  prison  —  a  menace  —  a 
horror!" 

"  You  are  a  woman,  dearest ;  I  hope  to  be  on  the 
old  Richard  before  long,  and  I  feel  from  such  a  ship 
as  that  there  is  much  honor  to  be  gained." 

"And  death,  too,"  she  answered,  shuddering. 

"  It  may  be ;  death  and  honor  often  go  hand  in 
hand,"  he  replied  gravely;  "but  she  nears  us;  you 
must  lie  down  until  she  passes." 

It  was  a  new  thing  for  her  to  be  commanded;  she 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

found  it  altogether  a  sweet  experience  —  then. 
Later  it  might  be  another  matter.  So,  though  pro 
testing  because  she  was  a  woman  and  had  prescient 
eye  to  the  future,  Elizabeth  dutifully  obeyed  her 
lord  and  lay  down  in  the  boat,  resting  her  head 
against  his  foot.  As  they  drew  toward  the  mouth 
of  the  harbor  the  wind  came  stronger.  The  little 
boat  fairly  roared  through  the  white-capped  waves. 
She  heeled  over  until  the  water  trickled  in  on  the 
lee  side;  but  O'Neill  resolutely  and  skilfully  held 
her  up  to  it.  He  could  not  afford  to  lose  an  inch  of 
distance  to  leeward,  for  the  water  shallowed  rapidly 
in  that  direction,  and  abounded  in  rocks  as  well. 
The  Serapis  was  alongside  now;  they  had  not  yet 
been  observed.  The  attention  of  the  men  on  the 
frigate  was  fixed  upon  the  approaching  ships  to  the 
southeast,  now  plainly  visible.  O'Neill  fairly  held 
his  breath  as  he  congratulated  himself  that  they 
were  to  be  passed  by  unnoticed.  Suddenly  a  sharp 
cry  rang  out  just  as  the  Serapis  drew  ahead. 

"  Sail  ho  !  Boat  ahoy,  there ! "  For  a  moment 
the  small  boat  lay  right  in  the  path  of  light  cast  by 
the  brilliantly  illuminated  stern-ports  of  the  frigate. 

"'Tis  the  prisoner,  he  that  escaped!"  shouted  a 
powerful  voice. 

"Sentry,  give  him  a  shot  from  your  piece,"  cried 
Captain  Pearson  himself,  springing  on  the  rail  and 
leaning  over  toward  them.  Old  Price  shook  his  fist 
at  the  frigate  in  stout  defiance.  The  sharp  crack  of 
a  musket  rang  out  in  the  air.  The  bullet  seemed 
to  have  struck  something  forward  in  the  boat;  a 

166 


The  sharp  crack  of  a  musket  rang  out  in  the  air. 


IN   THE   LINE   OF   HIS  DUTY 

shudder  swept  through  the  little  craft,  a  hoarse, 
frightful  cry  quivered  through  the  night,  there  was 

splash,  the  boat  struck  something,  and  that  some 
thing,  whatever  it  was,  rasped  along  her  keel  as  she 
drove  ahead. 

"Clear  away  the  second  cutter,"  cried  another 
voice  on  the  frigate. 

"  Keep  all  fast ! "  shouted  Pearson.  "  We  have 
bigger  game  to-night,"  and  then  he  hollowed  his 
hand  and  cried  out  as  the  Serapis  drew  rapidly 
away,  — 

"We'll  take  care  of  you,  sir,  in  the  morning, 
when  we  return."  A  few  more  musket-shots  were 
fired  at  them  from  different  parts  of  the  ship;  one 
bullet  tore  through  the  sail  and  whistled  by  the  ear 
of  the  young  lieutenant,  but  did  no  harm. 

"  We  are  saved  again ! "  cried  Elizabeth,  sitting 
up  and  looking  gratefully  at  her  lover. 

"But  not  without  a  cost,"  said  the  young  man, 
solemnly. 

"What  mean  you?  Are  you  hurt;  are  you 
wounded  ?  "  she  cried. 

"Price!"  called  O'Neill,  softly,  though  he  knew 
it  was  useless.  There  was  no  answer. 

"  Oh,  that  awful  cry  !  "  said  Elizabeth,  shuddering. 

"It  was  he,"  added  O'Neill,  gravely.  "He  was 
hit  by  the  first  shot,  and  went  overboard.  Did  you 
not  feel  him  strike  the  keel?  " 

"  Is  there  no  hope  for  him  ?  "  she  queried  anxiously. 
"  Could  we  not  put  back  and  seek  him  ?  " 

"None,"  replied  the  young  lieutenant,  shortly. 
167 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"There  was  death  in  his  voice;  it's  all  over  with 
him.  Well,  he  died  in  the  line  of  his  duty;  'tis  a 
sailor's  cherished  hope." 

"He  helped  me  —  both  of  us  —  in  time  of  need; 
our  way  to  liberty  and  happiness,"  she  cried  pite- 
ously,  "seems  to  be  over  the  bodies  of  those  who 
loye  us." 

"  So  it  has  ever  been  in  the  world,  —  a  thousand 
deaths  to  make  one  life,  a  thousand  griefs  to  make 
one  joy,"  he  answered,  laying  his  hand  tenderly 
upon  her  head,  which  she  had  buried  in  her  hands. 

"  But  what  come  what  may,"  she  added,  looking  up 
resolutely,  with  all  the  selfishness  of  love,  "  I  have 
you,  at  least,  and  we  are  together  again." 

"  Ay,  let  us  pray  it  may  be  forever,  sweetheart. " 

They  were  out  of  the  harbor  now;  and  while  the 
Serapis  was  stretching  along  to  the  northeast  to  gain 
an  offing,  with  the  Scarborough  some  distance  ahead 
of  her,  and  to  leeward,  the  lighter  draft  of  the  small 
boat  permitted  O'Neill  to  head  her  directly  for  the 
oncoming  American  ships,  whose  lights,  and  the 
ships  themselves,  were  now  plainly  visible  in  the 
moonlight. 


1 68 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Differing  Standards 

battle  which  will  take  place  to-night  yon- 
der  between  those  ships  decides  my  fate.  I 
hope  to  God  I  may  arrive  in  time  to  take  my  part  in  it ! 
The  Richard  is  fearfully  short  of  officers  at  best; 
Landais,  who  has  the  Alliance,  is  crazy  and  a  coward  ; 
Cottineau  in  the  Pallas  is  an  unknown  quantity,  and 
the  rest  have  fled.  Jones  has  only  Richard  Dale  and 
a  lot  of  midshipmen  with  him  upon  whom  he  can 
absolutely  depend,  and  there  are  over  two  hundred 
prisoners  in  the  hold.  He  needs  me.  If  this  breeze 
hold  on,  I  think  we  may  intercept  the  Richard  before 
the  battle  is  joined.  Pray,  dearest,  as  never  before, 
for  the  success  of  our  arms  !  It  means  life,  and  you, 
for  me." 

"  It  means  life  for  me  as  well,"  she  answered,  nes 
tling  against  him  and  nerving  herself  up  to  the  inevi 
table  confession.  How  he  would  take  it  she  did  not 
know,  or  rather  she  would  not  permit  herself  to  say. 
She  was  conscious  only  of  an  impelling  necessity  to 
tell  him  the  whole  story,  though  she  had  deliberately 
waited  until  she  believed  he  could  do  nothing. 

"  Ah,  yes,  't  is  sweet  of  you  to  say  so,  but  not  the 
same.  Me  they  will  hang,  but  not  you,"  he  answered 
fondly. 

169 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Yes,  they  will,"  she  replied.  "I  —  I  — I  must 
confess  it  to  you  before  we  go  further;  it  weighs 
upon  me.  I  also  am  guilty." 

"Guilty!  You!  Of  what,  pray?  Of  loving  me 
too  much?"  he  queried,  laughing  in  pure  lightness 
of  heart. 

"No,  not  that,"  she  answered,  "but  that  —  that 
order — your  reprieve.  It  was  —  the  admiral  did 
not  sign  it,"  she  added  desperately. 

The  secret  was  out. 

"And  who  did  it,  then?"  he  asked,  still  unsuspi 
cious  of  her  meaning. 

"  I  did  it  myself,"  she  answered,  with  averted  head. 

"It  is  not  possible !"  he  exclaimed,  withdrawing 
from  her  a  little  in  his  astonishment. 

"  'T  was  for  you  —  for  you  I  did  it  —  reproach  me 
not ;  nay,  you  shall  not !  "  she  cried,  on  fire  to  defend 
herself  and  her  love,  now  the  truth  was  told.  "  Cap 
tain  Jones  said  six  hours'  delay  and  you  were  saved. 
There  was  no  other  way.  I  begged,  implored,  en 
treated  the  admiral  —  he  left  me  ;  went  away  —  I  saw 
the  man  fixing  that  block  —  the  rope  —  I  ran  to  him 
to  make  one  more  appeal  —  he  was  not  there.  On 
his  desk  was  an  order  giving  me  permission  to  see 
you,  which  he  had  intended  to  give  me  and  had  re 
fused  at  the  last  moment  and  left  unsigned.  His 
watch  was  there  and  his  seal.  I  added  the  rest  and 
signed  and  sealed  it  myself;  do  not  shrink  from 
me ! "  she  pleaded  with  changed  mood  again. 
"Your  anger  —  your  disapproval  —  kills  me.  Is 
there  no  excuse  that  you  can  find  for  me?"  Her 

170 


DIFFERING   STANDARDS 

appeal  was  so  tender,  her  affection  so  apparent, 
she  was  her  own  justification. 

"  No  man  would  have  done  it,"  he  said  irresolutely, 
wavering. 

"  But  every  woman  would,"  she  replied  promptly, 
pressing  her  advantage.  "Why  are  you  so  silent; 
Your  precious  honor  is  safe,  and  as  for  mine  — " 

"'Twas  nobly  done,"  he  answered  at  last,  in  com 
plete  surrender.  "  There  is  not  a  woman  in  the 
world  but  would  honor  you  for  it ;  not  a  man  who 
would  not  love  you.  You  have  done  that  which  I 
could  not,  and  for  me.  My  heart  before,  and  now 
my  life  is  yours,  my  heart's  dearest." 

"  I  knew  you  would  not  like  it,"  she  answered 
simply,  "  but  there  was  no  other  way.  I  confess  I 
was  terrified  when  Edward  — 

"  Good  heavens !  "  cried  O'Neill.  "  He  saw  the 
order?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  cowering  before  him  again. 
In  truth,  this  phase  of  the  transaction  had  actually 
escaped  her  memory. 

"  Captain  Pearson  accepted  it  without  questioning 
him?"  he  queried.  She  would  have  given  all  the 
world  to  lie  to  him,  but  even  in  the  darkness  she 
could  not  be  further  untrue,  in  his  very  presence, 
though  now  like  a  flash  she  saw  it  all. 

"  He  —  he  doubted  it,"  she  whispered  hesitatingly. 
"  He  handed  the  paper  to  Edward,  and  asked  him  if 
it  —  if  it  was  all  right." 

"  And  Coventry?  " 

"  He  took  it  and  looked  at  it,  looked  at  me  — 
171 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

I  had  forgotten  him,  I  must  confess,  —  "  she  went  on 
brokenly,  —  "  and  then  he  handed  it  back  to  Captain 
Pearson  and  —  and  said  it  was  correct  —  the  signa 
ture,  I  mean." 

"  He  knew,  think  you  ? "  asked  her  lover,  with 
deadly  calmness. 

"  Yes,  he  knew,"  she  faltered. 

"  And  the  sentry  • — •  our  unheeded  escape?" 

"  Edward  took  his  place  —  I  might  as  well  tell  you 
all  now,"  continued  the  girl,  desperately. 

"Ah!  "  he  said,  coldly  and  sternly;  "and  do  you 
know,  Lady  Elizabeth,  what  the  penalty  is  for  such 
actions  as  his?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  in  alarm ;  "  I  never  thought. 
They  will  not  harm  him.  He  is  the  son  of  the  ad 
miral —  what  is  it?" 

"  They  will  shoot  him,  or  hang  him  like  a  dog  to 
the  very  yard-arm  prepared  for  me !  "  he  answered 
with  stern  emphasis. 

"  No,  no  !  It  is  not  possible  !  "  she  cried,  appalled 
at  the  naked  fact. 

"  Ay,  but  it  is,"  he  replied  ;  "  and  it  is  through  your 
actions,  and  my  blind  acquiescence  therein,  that  this 
honorable  gentleman  is  done  to  death.  This  puts 
another  face  on  the  whole  thing.  You  have  made 
me  a  craven ;  I  am  dishonored,  his  life  is  sacrificed 
for  me  !  " 

"I  did  not  mean  to  do  it;  I  did  not  know,"  she 
wailed,  stricken  to  the  heart  by  his  bitter  reproach. 

"  Ay,  but  you  should  have  known ;  but  when 
women  meddle  in  affairs  of  state  the  consequences 

172 


DIFFERING   STANDARDS 

oft  exceed  their  narrow  views.  Pray  God,  there  may 
yet  be  time  to  rectify  the  frightful  happening,"  said 
O'Neill,  bitterly,  putting  the  helm  hard  over  as  he 
spoke.  The  boat  swept  around,  the  sail  gybed,  and 
they  headed  for  the  northeast. 

"  What  is  it  that  you  would  do?"  cried  Elizabeth, 
in  alarm,  laying  her  hand  on  the  tiller. 

"  Follow  the  Serapis,"  he  answered  shortly. 

"For  what?  " 

"  To  give  myself  up  if  possible,  and  thus  insure 
his  freedom." 

"  I  knew  —  I  knew  it  would  be  so,"  she  whispered. 
"  I  loved  him,"  she  murmured,  turning  away,  "  I 
have  sacrificed  everything  for  him,  and  he  repudiates, 
reproaches  me.  O  my  God,  why  hast  thou  for 
saken  me  !  "  she  wailed  in  unconscious  imitation  of  a 
greater  Sufferer.  She  drew  away  from  him  and 
knelt  down  in  the  boat,  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  leaning  upon  the  weather  gunwale.  He  looked 
at  her  a  moment,  and  before  the  pathetic  abandonment 
of  her  grief  his  anger  melted.  She  was  a  woman ; 
with  her,  love  was  all. 

"  Elizabeth,"  he  said  tenderly,  "  the  bitterness  of 
having  caused  that  good  man's  death,  his  apparent 
dishonor,  overwhelmed  me.  I  love  you,  as  you  know, 
more  than  life  itself.  You  are  a  woman ;  you  see 
things  differently.  There  is  nothing  above  love  in  a 
woman's  heart.  Come  back  to  me;  your  place  is 
here,  whatever  happens.  I  love  you  the  more  for 
your  great  sacrifice,  but  now  we  must  undo  it  if  we 
can.  Heaven  has  not  smiled  upon  our  meeting; 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

perhaps,  if  we  go  hand  in  hand  before  God  together, 
we  may  find  mercy,  perhaps  joy  !  " 

She  made  no  answer,  but  nestled  against  him  for 
given,  contented.  For  a  time  they  sailed  the  sea  in 
silence.  The  clouds  had  broken  and  left  a  clear  sky, 
whence  the  moon  had  flooded  the  ocean  with  her 
silvery  light ;  but  the  breeze  came  fitfully  and  gradu 
ally  died  away  where  they  were  now  under  the  lee  of 
the  land.  It  was  such  a  night  as  lovers  dream  of. 
They  loved  and  they  were  together,  side  by  side, 
alone,  in  the  soft  autumnal  night,  adrift  on  a  summer 
sea.  There  was  that  in  the  past  which  kept  them 
silent ;  and  yet  in  their  very  proximity,  in  the  hands 
that  touched  and  clasped  each  other,  the  head  that 
nestled  on  his  shoulder,  the  arm  that  encircled  her 
waist,  the  lips  that  met,  the  eyes  that  spoke,  —  there 
was  a  sweetness  which  neither  had  ever  known  before. 
The  gentle  wind  whispered  of  love.  The  curling, 
lipping  waves  caressed  the  keel  with  sounds  like 
kisses,  and  to  it  all  their  hearts  kept  time.  It  was 
a  respite,  —  a  lull  between  two  phases  of  the  con 
flict;  there  was  love  and  there  was  peace  in  the 
little  boat,  and  war  and  tumult  were  far  off  on  the 
horizon. 

By  and  by  Elizabeth  slipped  down  from  the  thwart, 
and  crouched  down  in  the  boat  at  his  feet.  O'Neill 
held  the  tiller  with  one  hand  ;  the  other  lightly  stroked 
her  golden  head.  She  was  perfectly  content;  every 
thing  was  out  of  her  heart  but  he  and  the  present; 
she  was  very  still.  He  could  see  the  soft  curve  of 
her  cheek  resting  upon  her  sweet  white  hand  in  the 


DIFFERING   STANDARDS 

moonlight.  After  one  of  the  little  intervals  of  silence, 
he  looked  down  upon  her  again.  She  made  no  mo 
tion,  and  did  not  reply  to  a  word  he  said  softly,  and 
he  discovered  that  she  was  asleep. 

He  did  not  wonder.  The  experiences  of  the  past 
few  days  would  have  killed  any  ordinary  woman. 
How  heroic  she  had  been  !  With  what  abandon  she 
had  put  aside  everything  for  the  purpose  of  saving 
him !  She  had  hesitated  at  nothing.  His  love  for 
her  was  measured  by  his  honor;  hers  for  him  was 
boundless.  'Twas  ever  so;  and  he  had  reproached 
her,  spoken  harshly  to  her,  upbraided  her,  turned  away 
from  her !  How  could  he  have  been  so  cruel !  she 
was  so  young,  his  heart  yearned  over  her.  He  vowed 
that  if  God  did  permit  them  to  escape  from  the  perils 
which  environed  them,  he  would  make  up  to  her  for 
every  unkind  word  spoken,  every  reproach,  every 
cutting  glance,  by  an  eternity  of  devotion. 

The  night,  the  ocean,  the  loneliness,  impressed  him. 
What  had  he  ever  done  to  be  so  blessed  in  the  love 
of  this  noble  woman?  His  life,  as  he  had  said,  had 
been  an  idle  one.  In  the  courts  he  had  played  at 
hearts  as  he  had  played  at  war  on  the  ships  for  the 
fun  of  the  game.  With  her  a  serious  purpose  had 
entered  his  life  and  was  before  him.  The  silence  of 
the  night  was  broken  only  by  the  soft  splash  of  the 
waves,  as  the  little  boat  rocked  gently  through  them. 
The  gentle  wind  grew  fainter  and  fainter ;  presently 
the  flap  of  the  idle  sail  against  the  mast  apprised  him 
that  it  had  gone. 

The  white  Serapis  and  her  consort  were  far,  far 
T75 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

ahead,  going  fast  and  leaving  a  long  white  wake 
across  the  sea.  They  seemed  to  have  kept  the 
breeze  which  had  failed  the  small  boat.  Coming  up 
from  the  southward  he  could  see  the  black  shapes  of 
the  Richard  and  her  attendant  ships.  What  would 
he  have  given  to  be  upon  the  deck  by  the  side  of 
that  dauntless  captain !  But  even  could  he  approach 
the  two  ships,  that  privilege  would  be  denied  him, 
for  honor  demanded  that  he  present  himself  upon 
the  deck  of  the  Serapis  without  delay.  It  might  be 
that  it  would  be  too  late  even  then  to  save  Coventry, 
but  he  would  go  and  do  his  best.  When  the  boat 
lost  way,  he  sat  a  moment  in  indecision.  He  was  so 
loath  to  awaken  the  tired  girl,  but  it  was  necessary. 
Gently  he  raised  her  head. 

"  Why,  my  dearest,"  she  said,  "  was  I  asleep  ? 
What  has  happened  ?  Oh  !  "  it  came  back  to  her, 
"  you  are  going  back  to  the  Serapis."  Then  she 
looked  eagerly  forward.  The  ships  were  far  off  now, 
several  miles  away;  and  as  the  breeze  still  held  with 
them,  the  distance  was  increasing  with  every  passing 
moment. 

"  We  do  not  advance,"  she  cried,  a  note  of  joy  in 
her  voice,  as  her  ear  detected  the  flapping  of  the 
sail ;  "  the  wind  has  died  out.  She  laughed  triumph 
antly,  "  We  shall  never  reach  them." 

"And  poor  Coventry?"  said  O'Neill. 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  she  answered  simply.  "  I 
think  only  of  you.  Now  if  I  could  go  back  alone 
and  take  his  place  and  let  you  go  free,  I  would 
cheerfully  do  that." 

176 


DIFFERING   STANDARDS 

"What  advantage  would  that  be  to  me?"  he 
asked  her. 

"  Well,  there  is  little  use  in  our  discussing  it  any 
more,"  she  answered,  "  for  you  cannot  reach  either 
ship  now  before  it  is  over.  The  wind  has  gone  over 
to  them,  and  we  are  still." 

"  Ah,  but  I  have  another  way  of  getting  along." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  I  shall  row,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Will  you  take 
the  tiller?  " 

"  No ! "  she  replied  defiantly,  folding  her  arms. 
"  I  will  not  help  you  at  all !  " 

"  Elizabeth  !     Elizabeth  !  "  he  murmured. 

"  I  will  not,  I  tell  you  !  "  she  said.  "  Frankly,  I  do 
not  wish  to.  What  is  Edward,  what  are  those  ships, 
what  is  the  whole  wide  world  to  me"  beside  your 
safety  ?  " 

"  I  must  do  it  alone  as  best  I  can,  then,"  said 
O'Neill,  leaving  her  side  and  going  forward  and  un- 
stepping  the  mast  and  thrusting  out  the  oars,  which 
he  handled  with  the  skill  of  long  practice  and  strong 
arms.  The  difference  of  speed  between  the  boat 
and  the  two  ships  was  now  of  course  greater  than 
before. 

"  Why  fatigue  yourself  unnecessarily?  "  she  said  to 
him  at  last,  after  he  had  been  rowing  for  some  time. 
"  You  gain  nothing;  'tis  useless." 

"  No  matter,"  was  his  reply  as  he  desperately 
tugged  at  the  oars.  "  I  shall  at  least  have  the  con 
sciousness  of  knowing  I  did  what  I  could."  But  after 
pulling  hard  for  an  hour,  he  leaned  over  the  handles 
12  177 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

of  the  oars  and  turning  his  head  looked  forward. 
She  was  right ;  it  was  a  perfectly  hopeless  task.  The 
nearest  ships  were  now  ten  or  a  dozen  miles  away, 
and  going  farther,  when  a  flash  of  light  pierced  the 
darkness  on  the  horizon,  followed  some  time  after 
by  the  roar  of  a  heavy  gun. 


178 


BOOK    V 

IN   THE    HELL   OF    BATTLE,   ALL 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  Boys  in  Command 

ship  is  clear,  sir,"  said  Lieutenant  Richard 
Dale,  saluting  smartly.  He  was  a  hand 
some,  dashing  young  sailor,  the  picture  of  sea  gal 
lantry,  as  he  ran  lightly  up  the  ladder  from  the 
main-deck  and  stopped  before  the  little  captain  of 
the  Bon  Homme  Richard,  standing  on  the  weather 
side  of  the  poop,  keenly  surveying  the  scene. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  nodding  his 
head  but  not  turning  toward  his  executive  officer. 
"  Look  yonder,"  he  added,  pointing  ahead  and  toward 
the  shore.  "  What  do  you  make  that,  sir?  " 

"  It  cannot  be  the  Alliance !  "  exclaimed  Dale,  in 
great  surprise,  as  he  shaded  his  eyes  and  gazed 
intently  in  the  direction  of  the  setting  sun  at  a  large 
war-ship  which  was  edging  in  shore  toward  the  har 
bor  of  Scarborough,  which  apparently  sheltered  a 
numerous  convoy  of  merchant  ships. 

"  'T  is  indeed  she  !  "  replied  Jones,  sternly ;  "  I  have 
repeatedly  signalled  to  Captain  Landais  to  follow  in 
our  wake,  —  to  form  line  ahead.  If  we  get  out  of  this 
thing  safely — "  He  stopped,  repressed  his  feeling 
by  a  strong  effort,  compressing  his  lips  passionately 
in  a  way  which  promised  trouble  for  Captain  Landais 
and  the  Alliance,  a  new  and  handsome  frigate,  the 

181 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

best  of  Jones's  squadron.  After  a  momentary  pause 
the  commodore,  a  man  of  few  words  in  time  of  action 
at  least,  turned  toward  the  stern  of  his  ship. 

"  Look  aft  there,  too,"  he  added. 

"That  will  be  the  Pallas,  of  course,"  said  Dale,  as 
his  eye  fell  upon  a  smaller  ship  which  was  following 
the  Bon  Homme  Richard.  "And  the  Vengeance, 
sir?" 

"  There  !  Hull  down  on  the  horizon,  fleeing  like  a 
coward,"  said  Jones,  bitterly. 

"  And  those  two  white  fellows  forward  there,"  con 
tinued  Dale,  "reaching  out  from  the  harbor—  " 

"Are  the  Serapis  and  the  Scarborough,"  interrupted 
the  captain,  "  if  the  information  sent  us  by  O'Neill  be 
correct." 

"  Would  he  were  here !  "  exclaimed  Dale. 

"  Yes,  he  is  himself  a  host,"  said  Jones,  sadly. 
"  We  are  fearfully  short-handed.  O'Neill  gone,  and 
Henry  and  Cutting  Lunt,  our  third  and  fourth  offi 
cers,  both  absent.  The  Frenchmen  are  an  unknown 
quantity.  I  have  only  you,  Dale,  and  Stacey  and 
Mease,  and  the  boys,  of  course ;  but  I  can  depend 
upon  you." 

"  Upon  me  —  upon  all  of  us,"  replied  Dale,  gal 
lantly,  "to  the  death  itself!  " 

"  I  know  it,"  said  the  captain,  smiling  and  laying  his 
hand  affectionately  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder. 
"  They  are  very  young,  though,"  he  continued  gravely, 
"  for  such  desperate  work  as  this  promises  to  be,  but 
they  are  brave  hearts  and  true.  They  will  do  their 
best,  I  doubt  not." 

182 


THE   BOYS   IN   COMMAND 

"  With  you  to  command  them,  sir,  they  '11  not  be 
found  wanting,  I  am  sure,"  said  the  enthusiastic  Dale, 
who  was  devotedly  attached  to  his  great  commander 
There  was  a  little  pause. 

"  Messieurs,"  said  Jones,  turning  toward  a  little 
group  of  French  officers  who  were  standing  on  the 
lee  side  of  the  poop.  At  the  captain's  word  they 
stepped  forward  and  saluted  gracefully. 

"  Colonel  de  Weibert,  you  have  served  in  the 
artillery,  I  believe?"  asked  the  captain  of  a  fine- 
looking  veteran.  The  Frenchman  bowed.  "  Will 
you  assist  Lieutenant  Dale  in  working  the  battery  on 
the  main-deck?  It  is  an  unusual  place  for  a  soldier, 
but  we  are  very  short  of  experienced  officers.  You 
understand  the  handling  of  great  guns.  It  would  be 
a  great  favor." 

"  Any  place  which  enables  him  to  fight  the  enemy 
is  a  good  place  for  a  soldier,  my  captain.  I  am  at 
Lieutenant  Dale's  service,"  replied  the  gallant  old 
soldier. 

"  You,  vicomte,  and  gentlemen,"  said  Jones,  turn 
ing  to  De  Chamillard,  who  was  attended  by  several 
subalterns,  "  will  take  charge  of  the  soldiers  on  the 
quarter-deck  and  forecastle.  I  desire  a  continuous 
small-arm  fire  to  play  upon  the  decks  and  tops  of 
the  English  ships." 

"  Sir  captain,"  smilingly  answered  De  Chamillard, 
a  dapper,  dainty  little  man,  as  he  in  turn  bowed 
profoundly,  laying  his  hand  on  his  sword,  "  not  a 
man  shall  escape  my  marine  infantry;  I  answer  for 
them  and  for  my  friends  here  as  well,"  he  added 

183 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

indicating  his  gay-clad  lieutenants,  who  emulated  the 
vicomte  in  the  profundity  of  their  salutations. 

"  Remember,  gentlemen,"  said  Jones,  his  face  light 
ing,  "  't  is  for  the  honor  of  America  —  and  of  France. 
Mr.  Brooks,"  he  said  to  an  alert  young  midshipman 
who  was  acting  as  his  signal  officer  and  aide,  "  signal 
the  Pallas  to  edge  off  to  the  east  and  engage  the 
smaller  ship  of  the  enemy.  The  big  fellow  is  our 
game,  messieurs.  See  !  they  are  forming  line  ahead 
and  are  waiting  for  us.  Brave  fellows !  Quarter 
master,"  he  cried,  stepping  to  the  break  of  the  poop 
and  looking  down  at  the  old  seaman  and  his  mates 
stationed  at  the  wheel,  "  d'ye  see  those  two  ships?  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  answered  the  veteran  tar,  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  peering  eagerly  ahead; 
"  I  sees  'em,  yer  Honor." 

"  That 's  well.  The  one  ahead,  nearest  the  shore, 
is  our  mark.  I  intend  to  round  to  on  her  port  bow. 
Mind  your  course  !  " 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  answered  the  steersman,  giving 
a  knowing  squint  at  the  lifting  sails,  and  shifting  the 
wheel  a  few  spokes. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  captain,  "  to 
your  stations  all !  But  stay  —  Mr.  Brooks,  direct 
the  sailing-master,  purser,  and  the  junior  officers  to 
come  up  on  the  quarter-deck." 

In  a  short  time  the  two  older  officers  and  a  little 
band  of  youths  whose  ages  ranged  from  twelve  to 
seventeen  years  stood  before  the  captain  and  saluted. 
His  eyes  fell  tenderly  upon  the  boys ;  so  youthful 

and    immature   were   they  to    be    charged  with    the 

184 


THE   BOYS   IN   COMMAND 

heavy  responsibilities  of  the  coming  hour,  which 
would  have  devolved  upon  the  older  men  but  for 
their  unfortunate  absence. 

"Young  gentlemen,"  he  said  quietly,  "accident 
has  thrust  you  into  positions  of  great  responsibility 
which  otherwise  you  might  not  have  been  called  upon 
to  fill  for  years.  We  are  about  to  engage  two  power 
ful  ships  of  the  enemy.  The  Richard  is  heavily 
overmatched  in  everything  except  in  the  spirit  and 
courage  of  her  officers  and  men.  I  am  deter 
mined  —  nay,  we  are  all  determined,  are  we  not?  — 
that  the  flag  which  floats  above  us  shall  never  be 
struck.  We  may  be  sunk,  but  we  will  not  surrender. 
I  shall  try  to  do  my  part;  you  will,  I  doubt  not,  do 
yours?  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"We  will,  sir." 

"  Count  on  us  to  the  death,  sir,"  broke  forth  from 
the  impetuous  youths  who  clustered  about  the 
captain. 

"  Remember  that  we  are  fighting  not  only  to  up 
hold  the  honor  of  our  flag  in  the  face  of  the  most 
arrogant  navy  on  the  ocean,  but  to  rescue  from  a 
shameful  death  —  if  it  be  not  unhappily  too  late  — 
one  of  our  brother  officers  who  would  give  his  life  to 
be  here." 

"  O'Neill,  O'Neill !  "  cried  one  and  another,  the 
brave  Irishman  being  a  great  favorite  with  all. 

"  I  enjoin  upon  you  the  utmost  vigilance  and  care. 
Supplement  your  inexperience  by  redoubled  effort. 
Be  as  brave  as  youths  and  as  cool  as  veterans.  Give 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

implicit  obedience  to  the  orders  you  receive  from 
Mr.  Dale,  Mr.  Stacey,  or  from  me,  and  exact  the 
same  compliance  with  your  orders  from  your  men. 
They  are  a  hard  lot  to  handle ;  don't  lose  control  of 
them."  He  paused  a  moment,  scanning  the  intent 
faces  of  the  lads  close  about  him,  and  then  continued  : 
"  Remember,  too,  we  have  more  than  one  foe  to 
fight,  — -  the  prisoners  below,  the  enemies  yonder  on 
the  sea,  and  disobedience  in  our  own  squadron.  Who 
keeps  guard  over  the  prisoners  in  the  hold?  " 

"  I,  sir,  with  the  master-at-arms,"  answered  Payne, 
a  resolute-looking  youth  of  fifteen.  "  I  wanted  to  be 
on  deck  in  the  batteries,  sir  —  " 

"  You  could  have  no  more  important  station,  my 
lad,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Keep  them  under 
hatches  !  Do  not  hesitate  to  shoot  the  first  man  who 
makes  a  move  to  break  out !  They  must  not  be 
allowed  to  gain  the  deck.  At  all  hazards,  keep  them 
down  !  I  repeat  it,  sir,  keep  them  down  !  Do  you 
understand?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  gravely  answered  the  boy,  awed  by  the 
emphasis  of  the  captain's  manner. 

"  You,  Mr.  Mayrant,  with  Mr.  Mease  the  purser 
and  Mr.  Brooks,  will  remain  on  deck  with  Mr.  Stacey 
and  me,"  continued  the  captain.  "  You,  Mr.  McCol- 
lin,  will  take  charge  of  the  old  eighteen-pounders  on 
the  berth-deck.  You,  too,  have  a  post  of  danger ! 
Be  careful  of  them !  I  distrust  them  greatly,  yet 
they  must  be  tried." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  young 
midshipman,  delighted  at  being  thus  distinguished. 

186 


THE   BOYS   IN   COMMAND 

"Mr.  Caswell,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  largest 
and  oldest,  "  you  will  take  charge  of  the  forecastle. 
Mr.  Fanning,  I  confide  the  maintop  to  you.  The 
rest  of  you  will  command  the  several  divisions  in  the 
main  batteries  and  the  other  tops.  Now,  young 
gentlemen,  before  you  go  to  your  stations,  I  would 
take  you  by  the  hand ;  and  so,"  lifting  his  cocked  hat 
reverently,  an  example  all  present  followed,  "  may 
God  guard  the  right !  "  There  was  a  suspicious 
moisture  in  some  of  the  eyes  looking  upon  the  cap 
tain,  but  the  midshipmen  would  have  died  rather 
than  permit  an  actual  tear  to  be  seen. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Commodore  Jones  and  the  bully 
Richard  ! "  at  last  shouted  Payne,  breaking  the 
insupportable  silence.  The  little  party,  somewhat 
forgetful  of  discipline  for  the  moment,  crowded 
around  their  captain,  shaking  him  by  the  hand,  and 
turned  away.  They  had  come  up  to  the  quarter 
deck  a  rollicking  set  of  boys;  they  returned  from  it  a 
group  .of  grave-eyed  men. 

"  What  a  splendid  set  of  youngsters !  "  said 
Jones  to  himself,  as  he  watched  them  spring  lightly 
toward  their  stations.  Then  he  turned  toward  the 
sailing-master :  "  Mr.  Stacey,  take  the  deck  for  a  few 
moments  and  hold  on  as  we  are.  Ah  !  "  he  said, 
pausing  with  his  foot  on  the  ladder  as  he  saw  the 
Pallas,  a  much  swifter  sailer  than  the  Richard,  rush 
ing  by  on  the  starboard  side  with  every  breath  of 
canvas  drawing,  heading  for  the  smaller  of  the  two 
English  ships  before  them,  "  there  goes  the  Pallas. 
Cottineau,  at  least,  is  a  brave  man.  I  shall  remember 

187 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

him.  Come,  Dale."  As  he  stepped  down  the  ladder 
a  hearty  cheer  rang  out  from  the  passing  frigate, 
which,  without  order,  was  lustily  returned  from  the 
Richard,  and  then  the  two  officers  walked  through 
the  batteries. 

The  sun  had  set  for  some  time,  and  night  had 
long  since  fallen  over  the  sea.  The  light-house  on 
Flamborough  Head  was  sending  out  a  great  beam  of 
warning  from  that  jutting  point.  Far  on  the  horizon 
a  silvery  brightness  had  spread  itself  in  the  heavens, 
bespeaking  the  harvest  moon,  the  burnished  rim  of 
which  even  before  sunset  had  leaped  into  being  on  the 
edge  of  the  water.  Lights  twinkled  here  and  there  on 
the  English  ships  before  them  and  crowned  the  hills 
of  the  distant  town  and  harbor.  Battle  lanterns  were 
lighted  between  decks  on  the  Richard,  the  yellow 
flickering  radiance  from  which  was  reflected  from  the 
sinewy,  half-naked,  sweat-covered  bodies  of  the  stal 
wart  men  at  their  quarters,  as  the  captain  walked 
through  the  crew. 

It  was  a  varied  assemblage  of  about  three  hundred 
men  which  manned  the  guns  and  filled  the  tops. 
The  crew  had  been  made  up  in  France  out  of  such 
materials  as  came  to  hand.  There  were  about  seventy- 
five  tried  and  true  American  seamen,  most  of  them 
veterans  of  many  a  hard  fight  and  bold  adventure. 
These  commanded  the  different  guns  and  filled  the 
more  important  stations.  There  were,  perhaps,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  veteran  French  soldiers,  —  old  artil 
lerists,  —  some  of  whom  had  volunteered  at  the  guns ; 
a  few  of  the  most  expert  marksmen  among  them  were 

188 


THE   BOYS   IN   COMMAND 

stationed  in  the  tops,  but  the  greater  portion  was  di 
vided  into  two  large  bodies  drawn  up  on  the  quarter 
deck  and  forecastle.  The  balance  of  the  crew  had 
been  gathered  from  the  riff-raff  of  all  nations  ;  perhaps 
a  tougher,  rougher,  harder,  more  desperate  body  of 
men  never  fought  a  ship ;  they  had  but  one  virtue,  — 
they  would  fight. 

Only  a  resolute  hand  and  an  indomitable  will  like 
that  of  Jones  had  ever  held  the  motley  crowd  in  any 
kind  of  discipline.  He  had  ruled  the  Richard  with 
an  iron  heart,  and  in  spite  of  bitter  murmurs  had 
forced  the  men  to  do  his  will.  The  ship  had  been 
a  slumbering  volcano  of  incipient  mutiny  and  latent 
rebellion ;  but  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy,  these 
men  whose  passion  it  was  to  fight  forgot  their  per 
sonal  grievances,  and  mindful  of  the  finished  skill  and 
superhuman  courage  of  their  captain,  looked  favor 
ably  upon  him  and  eagerly  anticipated  the  conflict. 
Rude  jests  and  bits  of  sea  pleasantry,  usually  per 
mitted  in  moments  like  these,  flew  up  and  down  the 
line  between  the  captain  and  the  ruffians  under  his 
command  as  he  passed  by  them  in  rapid  review. 

The  watches  had  been  piped  to  supper  earlier  than 
usual,  and  afterward  a  double  ration  of  grog  had  been 
served  out.  The  men  were  in  good  spirits,  and  good 
spirits  in  them !  The  captain  carefully  examined 
every  part  of  the  ship.  The  young  midshipmen  who 
filled  the  unwonted  stations,  evidently  deeply  im 
pressed  by  their  opportunities  and  responsibilities, 
were  pacing  restlessly  up  and  down,  eagerly  scrutiniz 
ing  every  detail  of  their  several  commands.  On  the 

189 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

berth-deck,  standing  before  the  hatch  which  led  into 
the  hold  in  which  over  two  hundred  English  pris 
oners  were  confined,  the  commodore  found  young 
Payne,  attended  by  the  master-at-arms,  two  Ameri 
can  seamen,  and  three  French  soldiers,  keeping 
guard. 

"  Ah  !  I  am  glad  to  see  you  at  your  station,"  said 
the  captain,  raising  his  voice,  as  the  young  midship 
man,  full  of  pride,  saluted  him.  "  You  remember 
my  orders,  sir,  which  were  to  shoot  the  first  man  who 
shows  his  head  above  the  hatch?" 

There  was  a  hoarse  murmur  from  the  prisoners 
beneath  the  gratings  which  covered  the  hatchway,  at 
this  speech  of  the  captain's,  which  was,  as  he  had  in 
tended,  clearly  heard  by  them. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir.  I  '11  do  it ;  never  fear,"  answered  the 
lad,  in  his  boyish  treble. 

"  Remember,  sir,  that  I  regard  your  station  as  one 
of  the  most  important  on  the  ship  !  Those  men  must 
not  be  allowed  on  deck  !  " 

"They  shall  not  be  !  "  answered  Payne,  resolutely. 
"  If  the  ship  goes  down,  they  go  with  it !  " 

There  was  a  harsh  roar  below ;  oaths,  curses,  im 
precations,  and  cries  were  blasted  up  from  the  deck 
beneath  them. 

"  Silence  there  !  "  shouted  Jones.  "  Remember  !  " 
he  said  to  the  midshipman  as  he  turned  away. 

"  I  shall  not  forget,  sir,"  replied  the  boy,  saluting 
proudly. 

"  Do  what  you  can,"  said  Jones,  turning  to  McCol- 
lin,  —  "  do  what  you  can  with  the  old  eighteens." 

190 


THE   BOYS   IN   COMMAND 

"  They  shall  be  fought  as  long  as  they  exist,  sir," 
answered  the  young  officer. 

"  I  know  that,  sir,"  said  Jones,  glancing  approvingly 
from  him  to  the  little  groups  of  half-naked  men  clus 
tered  about  the  guns,  the  sweat  streaming  from  their 
muscular  bodies  in  the  heat  of  the  narrow,  confined 
quarters,  "  and  you  have  the  men  with  you  who  will 
back  you  up." 

A  hoarse  cheer  which  resounded  throughout  the 
dim  recesses  of  the  berth-deck  bespoke  the  hearty 
acquiescence  of  the  men  in  their  captain's  shrewd 
estimate  of  their  qualities. 


191 


CHAPTER   XIX 

'Tween  Decks  with  the  Men 

THE  captain,  not  ill  pleased  at  this  and  other 
manifestations  of  hearty  spirit  which  had  met 
him  on  every  hand,   mounted    the   ladders  and   re 
sumed    his  station    on   the    high   poop-deck   of  the 
frigate. 

Anything  less  like  a  war  vessel  could  hardly  be 
imagined.  The  Bon  Homme  Richard  had  been  an 
old-fashioned,  high-pooped  East  Indiaman  with  a 
towering  forecastle.  This  antiquated  makeshift,  for 
merly  called  the  Due  de  Duras,  had  been  turned  over 
to  Jones  for  a  ship-of-war  through  the  grudging  kind 
ness  of  France.  It  was  the  best  ship  Franklin  and 
the  other  commissioners  of  the  new  American  Re 
public  could  procure  for  their  greatest  sea  captain. 
Jones,  out  of  compliment  to  Franklin,  author  of  the 
"  Poor  Richard "  papers,  had  renamed  her ;  the 
name  was  the  only  thing  new  about  her.  She  had 
been  pierced  for  thirty-six  guns,  twenty-eight  twelve- 
pounders  on  the  main-deck,  and  eight  nine-pounders 
on  the  quarter-deck  and  forecastle.  In  utter  despera 
tion  at  her  entire  inadequacy,  Jones  had  recourse  to 
the  dangerous  experiment,  not  often  resorted  to,  of 
mounting  six  eighteen-pounders  in  ports  pierced  for 
them  on  the  berth-deck,  and  of  course  very  near  the 

192 


'TWEEN   DECKS  WITH   THE   MEN 

water  line.  The  guns  were  all  of  an  obsolete  pattern 
and  much  worn  by  use,  the  eighteen-pounders  being 
especially  bad;  as  dangerous,  in  fact,  to  friends  as 
foes.  Bad  as  they  were,  they  were  all  he  could 
obtain,  and,  with  characteristic  determination,  Jones 
resolved  to  make  the  best  of  them. 

The  ship  herself  was  so  old  and  rotten  that  she  was 
not  even  fit  for  an  ordinary  merchant  cruise,  much 
less  prepared  for  the  shocks  of  battle.  Through  an 
unfortunate  combination  of  circumstances,  all  of  her 
senior  officers  were  absent  except  Dale,  the  first 
lieutenant,  Stacey,  the  sailing-master,  and  Mease,  the 
purser.  Among  that  half  of  her  crew  who  were 
soldiers,  many  had  scarcely  yet  acquired  their 
"  sea-legs,"  and  some  of  them  were  actually  sea 
sick  during  the  battle  !  The  Serapis,  with  which  they 
were  about  to  engage  and  to  which  they  were  rapidly 
drawing  near,  was  a  brand-new,  double-banked  frigate, 
mounting  fifty  guns  on  two  covered  and  one  un 
covered  decks,  twenty  eighteen-pounders,  twenty 
nines,  and  ten  sixes.  She  was  manned  by  three 
hundred  and  fifty  well-drilled  able  seamen  and  com 
manded  by  one  of  the  best  officers  in  the  English 
navy,  who  was  ably  seconded  by  a  full  quota  of 
capable  and  experienced  subordinates. 

Pearson  had  no  more  doubt  of  winning  the  victory 
than  he  had  of  the  rising  of  the  sun  next  morning. 
Leaving  one  factor  out  ofa  comparison  of  the  opposing 
forces,  his  confidence  was  absolutely  warranted.  But 
Jones  had  no  more  doubt  of  winning  the  victory  than 
Pearson  had.  Pearson  knew  his  ship  and  his  crew ; 
13  i93 


THE   GRIP  OF  HONOR 

Jones  knew  himself.  He  was  the  unconscious  factor 
which  vitiated  Pearson's  conclusions.  When  a  man 
like  the  little  Scotch-American  captain  makes  up  his 
mind  to  do  a  thing,  there  is  only  one  thing  to  pre 
vent  his  doing  it,  and  that  is  to  remove  the  man ! 
Jones  intended  to  conquer.  There  never  was  a  man 
who  had  more  of  the  spirit  of  absolute  determination, 
of  unconquerable,  unshakable,  unbreakable  pertina 
city  in  continuing  a  conflict,  than  he.  He  never 
knew  when  he  was  beaten;  perhaps  because  he 
never  was.  There  was  something  in  the  sheer  de 
termined,  persistent  pugnacity  of  the  man  which 
absolutely  compelled  success.  He  wrenched  victory 
from  overwhelming  odds,  superior  force,  fortuitous 
chance,  —  everything. 

The  men  understood  this,  too.  There  is  nothing 
your  real  hard-bitten  dare-devil,  your  imprudent 
ruffian,  likes  so  much  as  a  man  who  is  not  afraid  of 
him  and  who  will  be  his  master.  Your  ruffian  curses 
and  swears  at  your  man,  plots  against  him,  rebels, 
mutinies,  conspires,  and  in  the  moment  of  action 
follows  him  like  a  devotee.  The  little  man  standing 
at  the  break  of  the  poop,  cool,  calm,  thoughtful,  with 
his  student  face  and  somewhat  poetic,  dreamy  smile, 
did  not  look  like  the  iron-handed,  iron-willed,  in 
domitable  master  of  the  motley  ruffian  band  which 
had  been  dumped  upon  his  deck  —  which  he  cer 
tainly  was.  With  the  dainty  manner  of  a  Frenchman, 
the  courteous  deference  of  a  gentleman  of  the  oldest 
and  best  school,  the  calmness  of  an  ancient  phi 
losopher,  there  was  in  his  appearance  no  outward 

194 


'TWEEN   DECKS  WITH   THE   MEN 

evidence  of  the  tremendous  qualities  inherent  in  the 
man,  save  in  the  sparkling,  flashing,  piercing  eye 
which  plunged  through  and  through  those  upon 
whom  its  glances  were  fastened,  with  the  keenness 
of  a  sword-blade. 

His  men  were  wont  to  say  that  he  could  look  even 
a  frigate  into  striking  her  colors  if  given  an  oppor 
tunity  !  The  hardest  ruffian  cringed  like  a  cur  before 
him,  and  this  when  he  was  peaceful  and  quiet.  When 
he  grew  angry,  which  was  rare,  his  passion  was  like 
Washington's,  blasting  and  appalling.  He  was  per 
fectly  quiet  now,  however,  and  he  stood  by  Dale's 
side  at  the  break  of  the  poop  looking  over  the  bows 
of  the  ship  toward  the  enemy. 

As  they  swept  forward  through  the  peaceful  sea,  a 
fragrance  of  balm  and  spicery  and  myrrh,  which 
seemed  to  suggest  the  many  voyages  of  the  old  ship 
in  the  distant  tropic  latitudes,  clung  about  the  decks 
and  pervaded  the  gentle  air  already  redolent  with 
the  sweet  scent  of  new-mown  hay  from  the  not  dis 
tant  shore.  It  was  as  calm  and  sweet  an  autumn 
night  as  ever  falls  across  the  tired  earth.  The  land 
breeze  blew  softly  across  the  decks;  the  bright 
radiance  of  the  glorious  moon  of  harvest  sparkled 
and  wavered  and  flickered  with  sinuous,  restless 
brilliancy  on  the  tossing  water  ahead.  All  the  busy 
notes  of  preparation  had  died  away.  There  had 
come  over  the  hearts  of  all,  in  that  moment  before 
the  approaching  crisis,  a  little  silence  which  bespoke 
a  recognition  of  the  gravity  of  the  impending  con 
flict.  The  mellow-toned  bell  forward  was  striking 

195 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

the  time;  two,  four,  six,  seven  bells  in  the  second 
dog  watch,  half  after  seven  o'clock.  The  minutes 
were  being  rung  away  for  some  of  the  men  upon  the 
decks  of  the  great  old  ship ;  for  many  of  them  the 
bell  would  strike  no  more.  Some  who  had  gazed 
carelessly  upon  the  setting  sun  would  not  see  it 
rise  again.  Laughter  ceased,  jests  failed,  and  some 
unwonted  lips,  while  eyes  were  heavenward  turned, 
murmured  the  name  of  God  in  belated  petition. 
Even  the  most  hardened  and  indifferent  sailor  felt  the 
influence  of  the  hour  and  was  still. 

Off  on  the  starboard  bow,  the  Pallas  was  gallantly 
speeding  toward  her  distant  foe.  The  Alliance,  hav 
ing  paid  no  attention  to  repeated  signals,  was  still 
edging  in  toward  the  convoy.  The  Serapis  with  her 
topsail  to  the  mast,  her  men  at  quarters,  ports  open, 
lanterns  lighted,  was  grimly  waiting.  As  Jones's  eye 
fell  upon  the  Alliance,  his  lips  were  tightened ;  a 
black  shadow  swept  across  his  face  which  boded  ill 
for  Landais  again.  When  Dale,  standing  by  his  side, 
ventured  to  break  his  reverie  by  a  bitter  comment 
upon  the  defection  of  the  frigate,  Jones  remarked,  — 

"  Never  mind,  sir.  The  fewer  we  are,  the  more 
honor  we  shall  gain  by  taking  them." 

But  in  the  main  the  two  officers  kept  silent  watch 
together.  Even  the  chattering  Frenchmen  caught 
the  contagion  of  the  portentous  moments  and  stood 
in  quiet  ranks  prepared  and  ready.  It  was  no  quarrel 
of  theirs,  this  in  which  they  fought,  but  their  old  and 
ever  present  hatred  of  England  gave  them  inspira 
tion  enough  for  the  conflict.  The  breeze  freshened 

196 


'TWEEN   DECKS   WITH   THE   MEN 

slightly ;  and  as  the  Richard  drew  nearer  the  Serapis, 
the  latter  swung  her  ponderous  main-yard  and  slowly 
filled  away.  The  two  ships  were  sailing  at  right  angles 
to  each  other,  the  Richard  slightly  ahead  of  the 
Serapis,  which  was  moving  to  cross  her  bow. 

"Shall  I  go  to  the  batteries  now,  captain?"  asked 
the  first  lieutenant. 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  would  better,"  answered  Jones, 
stretching  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-bye,  sir,"  said  the  other,  grasping  it  firmly. 

"  Good-bye ;  God  bless  you,  Richard,"  said  the 
older  man,  looking  gravely  at  his  beloved  subor 
dinate. 

"And  you,  sir,"  returned  Dale,  with  an  unusual 
accent  of  tender  affection ;  then  he  turned  and  ran 
rapidly  to  his  station. 

"  Pass  the  word  quickly,"  said  Jones  to  young 
Brooks,  "  for  the  men  to  deliver  their  fire  promptly 
and  together  when  the  word  is  given.  Not  a  gun  is 
to  be  discharged  until  the  order.  After  that,  as 
rapidly  as  possible." 

As  the  fleet-footed  midshipman  ran  along  the  decks, 
a  little  murmur  of  excitement  arose.  There  was  a 
shifting  of  positions ;  men  sprang  to  their  stations ; 
hoarse  whispers  came  from  the  gun  captains,  as  the 
smouldering  matches,  or  glowing  loggerheads,  were 
handed  to  them  by  their  subordinates. 

"  Silence  fore  and  aft  the  decks  !  "  came  the  clear 
voice  of  the  captain. 

The  murmurs  died  away  as  young  Brooks  sprang 
up  the  ladder  and  reported  that  everything  was  ready. 

197 


THE  GRIP  OF   HONOR 

The  boy  officers  choked  down  something  that  rose  in 
their  throats  as  they  walked  nervously  up  and  down 
their  divisions.  A  fleeting  thought  they  gave  to 
home,  mother,  hours  of  play,  so  far  away.  It  was 
the  first  battle  for  many  of  them.  Down  on  the 
berth-deck  in  front  of  the  hatchway,  little  Payne 
looked  to  the  priming  of  his  pistols  and  whispered  a 
word  or  two  to  his  men,  who  stood  with  their  muskets 
pointing  down  through  the  gratings  covering  the 
hatchway.  He  wished  he  had  been  up  on  deck  with 
the  rest,  fighting  a  great  gun,  or  attached  to  the  side 
of  the  captain;  but  the  captain  had  told  him  that  the 
post  of  honor  and  importance  was  here,  and  here  he 
would  stand.  There,  on  the  starboard  side,  his  young 
messmate  and  friend,  McCollin,  gave  another  careful 
inspection  to  his  three  old  eighteen-pounders,  firmly 
resolved  to  give  such  an  account  with  them,  if  they 
did  not  burst,  as  would  decide  the  action. 

Caswell  and  Mayrant  were  in  the  forecastle  to  fight 
the  two  guns  there.  Mr.  Mease,  the  purser,  as  brave 
a  man  as  ever  stepped  a  deck,  though  no  sailor,  had 
charge  of  the  quarter-deck  guns.  Stacey,  the  sailing- 
master,  stood  aft  by  the  wheel  to  assist  in  working 
the  ship.  Brooks  and  De  Chamillard  were  on  the 
poop  near  Jones.  Fanning,  with  his  bullies  in  the 
maintop,  was  anxiously  wishing  that  he,  too,  might 
have  a  place  in  the  centre  of  the  conflict,  the  gun- 
deck,  little  knowing  what  decisive  moment  was  in 
store  for  him. 

They  were  nearer  now,  well  within  gun-shot,  yet 
there  was  no  sound  from  either  ship.  The  tense 

198 


'TWEEN   DECKS  WITH   THE   MEN 

expectancy  of  the  moment  was  becoming  unbearable 
to  the  younger  hands.  What  were  the  captains  of 
the  ships  about?  Why  did  n't  they  fire ?  Away  off 
on  the  horizon,  flashes  of  light  and  the  deep  boom  of 
artillery  reverberating  across  the  water,  told  that  their 
consort  had  joined  in  battle  with  the  Scarborough. 
Why  were  they  so  slow?  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of 
the  silence,  broken  only  by  the  soft  sigh  of  the  sum 
mer  wind  through  the  top-hamper,  the  splashing  of 
the  bluff  bows,  as  they  forced  themselves  through  the 
rippling  water,  came  the  sound  of  a  hail  from  the 
English  ship,  the  words  of  which  were  indistinguish 
able. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  cried  Jones,  then  he 
turned  to  the  quartermaster  and  said  softly,  — 

"  Over  with  the  helm  !  Hard-a-starboard  !  "  As  the 
wheel  was  put  over  by  the  skilful  hands  of  the  quarter 
master  and  his  mate,  the  great  ship  swung  slowly  to 
port  and  rounded  to  off  the  port  bow  of  the  English 
ship. 

The  Englishman  hailed  again. 

"  This  is  the  United  States  ship  Bon  Homme 
Richard,"  shouted  Paul  Jones  in  reply,  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  springing  up  on  the  rail  the  while.  "  Stand 
by !  "  A  quiver  and  shiver  went  through  the  ship 
from  her  tops  to  her  very  vitals.  "  Fire  !  " 

Streams  of  light  leaped  out  in  the  darkness ;  clouds 
of  smoke  rose  at  once  from  the  sides  of  the  Richard 
only  to  be  met  and  brushed  away  by  a  broadside 
which  had  been  delivered  no  less  promptly  from  the 
English  ship.  Groans  and  curses  and  yells  and 

199 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

cheers  rose  from  the  blood-stained  decks  upon  which 
men  writhed  in  the  agony  of  ghastly  wounds,  or  lay 
contorted  in  hideous  death  where  they  had  fallen,  for 
at  close  range  both  broadsides  had  done  fearful 
execution. 

The  desperate  men  ran  the  huge  guns  in  and  out 
and  loaded  them  with  frantic  energy  and  kept  up  a 
continuous  cannonade  upon  their  foes.  The  roar  of 
the  great  guns  drowned  every  other  sound  as  the  two 
ships  sailed  side  by  side  in  bitter  conflict,  but  the 
trained  ear  of  the  American  captain  had  detected 
another  sound  coincident  with  the  first  broadside 
which  told  a  tale  of  disaster.  When  the  loggerheads 
had  been  applied  to  the  priming  of  two  of  the  eight- 
eens,  they  had  exploded  with  a  terrific  concussion, 
killing  and  wounding  nearly  every  man  of  their 
crews. 

McCollin,  who  commanded  the  battery,  was  struck 
by  a  piece  of  iron  and  received  a  dreadful  wound. 
He  remained  at  his  post,  however,  clinging  tenaciously 
to  a  broken  stanchion  for  a  moment  until  he  recovered 
himself  a  little.  As  the  frightened  and  appalled  men 
shrank  away  from  the  remaining  gun  of  the  battery, 
not  yet  discharged  in  view  of  the  dreadful  explosion, 
he  seized  the  hot  iron  from  the  dead  hand  of  the  cap 
tain  of  number  one  gun,  and  setting  his  lips  grimly 
staggered  over  to  the  last  cannon. 

"  Don't  do  it,  sir ! "  hoarsely  cried  the  old  boat 
swain's  mate  who  served  under  him.  "  It  '11  blow  up 
with  ye,  as  the  others  ha'  done !  "  There  was  no 
reply.  McCollin  was  beyond  words.  With  set  lips 

200 


'TWEEN   DECKS  WITH   THE   MEN 

and  grim  face,  in  silence  he  wavered  on  before  the 
awe-struck  men.  With  tottering  steps  he  reached  the 
gun  and  applied  the  iron.  There  was  a  blinding  roar 
and  the  gun  whirled  inboard  in  rapid  recoil  from  the 
force  of  the  discharge. 

"  Load  it  again,"  said  the  gasping  boy,  striving  to 
stop  the  blood  with  his  hand  against  his  side.  Before 
the  men,  who,  inspired  by  such  heroism,  had  sprung 
eagerly  forward,  could  reach  the  piece,  an  eighteen- 
pound  shot  from  the  Serapis'  lower  deck  struck  it 
fair  and  square  on  the  trunnion  and  dismounted  it. 
That  battery  was  useless.  The  explosion  had  made 
a  gaping  hole  in  the  side  of  the  Richard,  through 
which  the  red-lighted  side  of  the  Serapis  but  a  short 
distance  away  could  be  seen  plainly ;  the  deck  above 
and  below  was  badly  shattered  by  the  blowing  up  of 
the  guns. 

"  All  the  men  alive  of  this  division,"  said  McCollin, 
thickly,  "  will  find  places  at  the  divisions  on  the  gun- 
deck.  We  can  do  nothing  more  here.  Good-bye, 
Payne." 

A  few  moments  later  a  powder-blackened,  blood 
stained,  white-faced,  desperate  little  figure  appeared 
out  of  the  smoke  before  the  captain. 

"  McCollin,  you  here  !  "  he  cried  sternly,  "  why 
are  you  not  with  your  battery,  sir?" 

"  I  have  to  report,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  grasping  the 
rail  with  one  hand  to  keep  from  falling,  while  he 
saluted  with  the  other,  "  that  two  of  the  berth-deck 
guns  blew  up,  sir,  and  the  other  was  dismounted. 
Have  you  any  orders  for  me,  sir?" 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

"  Too  bad  !  "  cried  Jones.  "  Orders  !  —  but  you 
are  wounded !  " 

At  this  moment  a  round  shot  struck  the  lad  fair  in 
the  chest.  With  his  hand  still  at  salute  he  was  whirled 
across  the  deck  and  thrown  against  the  taffrail,  a 
broken  mass  of  what  had  been  humanity. 

"  Good  Heaven  !  "  exclaimed  the  captain,  staring 
and  almost  losing  his  iron  nerve  at  this  double  shock, 
—  the  loss  of  the  battery  and  the  death  of  the  mid 
shipman.  "  Poor  lad  !  A  hero  !  " 

The  ships  were  nearer  now ;  the  rifles  of  the  French 
men  were  cracking  and  the  fire  from  the  great  guns 
was  continuous.  The  Richard  had  drawn  well  ahead  ; 
and  fearful  that  the  Serapis  would  cross  his  stern  and 
rake,  Jones  now  shivered  his  headsails,  threw  his 
aftersails  aback,  checked  the  way  of  his  own  ship,  and 
the  Serapis,  firing  madly  into  the  smoke,  drew  ahead 
of  the  Richard.  Jones  then  put  his  helm  up  to  try 
to  cross  her  stern  and  rake.  The  quick  handling  of 
the  English  ship  frustrated  this  plan.  The  bow  of 
the  Richard  struck  the  port  quarter  of  the  Serapis. 
The  two  ships  hung  together  a  moment,  boarders 
were  called  on  both  sides ;  but  before  they  could  be 
used,  the  two  ships  drifted  apart  and  formed  a  line 
ahead,  with  not  a  single  gun  bearing  on  either  ship. 
The  roar  of  the  guns  gradually  subsided  and  even  the 
crack  of  the  small  arms  died  away.  The  smoke 
drifted  slowly  off  to  leeward. 


202 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  Indomitable  Ego 

THE  battle  had  been  maintained  with  the  utmost 
fury  for  nearly  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  and 
both  ships  had  sustained  severe  injuries,  the  Richard 
being  in  much  the  worse  condition.  The  heavy  shot 
from  the  long  eighteens  of  the  Serapis  had  played 
havoc  with  her.  Pearson  naturally  thought  that  it 
was  about  time  for  Jones  to  surrender,  though  the 
hour  when  Jones  thought  it  time  to  surrender  would 
never  strike.  The  sudden  silence  which  had  fallen 
upon  the  conflict  was  broken  by  a  voice  from  the 
British  ship.  In  high  interrogation  it  rang  over  the 
waters  in  the  moonlight. 

"Have  you  struck?"  was  the  question  of  the 
Serapis.  From  the  shattered  Richard  came  Jones's 
immortal  answer,  — 

"  I  have  not  yet  begun  to  fight !  " 

A  roar  of  wild  exultation,  a  gigantic  Homeric 
laugh,  broke  from  the  throats  of  the  crew  of  the 
Richard,  as  the  reply  of  the  captain  was  passed  from 
deck  to  deck,  until  the  whole  ship  from  truck  to  keel 
son  quivered  with  responsive  joy.  It  was  a  joke,  the 
character  of  which  those  blood-stained  rufBans  could 
well  appreciate ;  but  the  captain  was  in  no  mood  for 
joking.  He  was  serious,  and  in  the  simplicity  of  the 

203 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

answer  lay  its  greatness.  Strike !  Not  now,  nor 
ever!  Beaten!  The  fighting  is  but  just  begun! 
The  preposterous  possibility  of  surrender  cannot 
even  be  considered.  What  manner  of  man  this,  with 
whom  you  battle  in  the  moonlight,  brave  Pearson? 
An  unfamiliar  kind  to  you,  and  to  most,  such  as  has 
not  been  before,  nor  shall  be  again.  Yet  all  the 
world  shall  see  and  understand  at  this  time. 

"  /  have  not  yet  begun  to  fight!  " 

Surprising  answer !  On  a  ship  shattered  beyond 
repair,  her  best  guns  exploded  and  useless,  her  crew 
decimated,  ringed  about  with  dead  and  dying,  the 
captain  has  not  yet  begun  to  fight !  But  there  was 
no  delay  after  the  answer,  no  philosophizing,  no 
heroics.  The  man  of  action  was  there.  He  meant 
business  !  Every  moment  when  the  guns  were  silent 
was  a  wasted  one. 

The  helm  was  shifted  to  starboard,  and  the  head- 
sails  shivered.  The  Richard  slowly  swung  off  to 
port  and  gathered  headway  again.  The  Serapis  had 
lost  an  opportunity  of  tacking  and  raking.  In  order 
more  quickly  to  bring  his  guns  to  bear  and  perhaps 
to  prevent  a  raking  by  the  enemy,  Captain  Pearson 
threw  all  aback ;  and  the  two  ships,  one  backing,  and 
the  other  reaching  ahead,  slowly  drew  abreast  each 
other,  the  batteries  speaking  again  as  soon  as  the 
guns  bore.  The  wind  was  very  light,  and  the  motion 
of  both  ships  was  sluggish  in  the  extreme,  so  that 
they  practically  lay  side  by  side,  steerage  way  almost 
gone,  slowly  drifting  in  for  long  minutes,  until  there 
came  a  sudden,  temporary  breath  of  wind. 

204 


THE   INDOMITABLE   EGO 

The  position  was  most  advantageous  for  the  Sera- 
pis,  as  with  her  heavier  and  more  numerous  guns  she 
could  deliberately  knock  the  Richard  into  a  "  cocked 
hat."  She  was  much  the  speedier  and  handier  ship, 
and  might  reasonably  hope  to  choose  her  own  dis 
tance,  and,  having  selected  a  point  of  vantage,  main 
tain  it  to  the  end.  Pearson's  game  was  to  fight  at 
long  range  until  he  had  sunk  his  enemy  ;  no  difficult 
task  that  last,  —  she  was  half  sinking  now  !  But  what 
the  Richard  lacked  in  mobility  and  direction,  she 
made  up  in  her  captain.  Jones  did  things  instinc 
tively;  Pearson  had  to  think  about  them.  Jones's 
only  hope  was  in  getting  to  close  quarters  and  mak 
ing  use  of  the  disciplined  French  soldiery  upon  his 
decks. 

They  had  done  good  service  already  in  clearing 
the  spar-deck  of  the  English.  Therefore,  as  the 
Richard,  gathering  way,  gradually  forged  ahead,  her 
helm  was  shifted  to  port  and  the  vessel  slowly  swung 
across  the  bow  of  the  Serapis,  which  had  just  begun 
to  fill  away  again,  as  Pearson  saw  that  he  had  nearly 
backed  out  of  action.  The  bow  of  the  Serapis  struck 
the  starboard  quarter  of  the  Richard,  the  jibboom 
thrusting  itself  violently  through  the  mizzen  rigging. 
There  was  a  terrific  crash  at  the  moment  of  impact; 
and  a  second  later  the  English,  cheering  frantically, 
jumped  upon  the  heel  of  the  bowsprit  and  clambered 
upon  the  rail  of  their  ship. 

They  were  led  by  a  tall  distinguished-looking 
officer,  who  attracted  double  attention,  as  he  wore  the 
red  uniform  of  the  English  army.  As  their  heads 

205 


THE   GRIP  OF   HONOR 

appeared  over  the  rail,  the  powerful  voice  of  Jones 
could  be  heard  shouting,  "  Boarders  away !  "  Not 
waiting  for  the  men  who  came  springing  up  on  the 
quarter-deck  in  obedience  to  his  summons,  the  daunt 
less  captain  seized  a  pike  from  the  rack  and  hurled 
it  through  the  air  at  the  leader  of  the  Englishmen. 
Good  fortune  guided  his  hand,  and  the  steel  head  of 
the  lance  struck  fair  in  the  bosom  of  the  soldier.  The 
British  wavered  a  moment  as  their  officer  fell,  and 
Jones  discharged  his  pistols  full  among  them.  Then 
De  Chamillard  and  those  of  his  marines  left  alive 
upon  the  deck,  by  a  well-directed  point-blank  volley, 
drove  back  the  boarding  party  of  the  English. 

The  two  ships  were  grinding  against  each  other,  and 
the  wind  on  the  aftersail  of  the  Serapis  slowly  forced 
her  around  until  she  swung  parallel  to  the  Richard. 
The  jibboom  snapped  off  short  under  the  strain,  and 
her  starboard  anchor  caught  in  the  tangled  rigging 
of  the  American  frigate ;  and  Stacey,  the  sailing- 
master,  sprang  to  lash  the  ships  together.  Stacey 
snatched  a  rope  from  the  raffle  on  the  deck  and 
strove  to  overhaul  it.  It  was  tangled,  and  he  found 
great  difficulty  in  clearing  it.  An  impatient  man  at 
best,  and  now  greatly  excited,  he  swore  roundly  as 
he  tugged  at  the  vexatious  rope. 

"  Don't  swear,  Mr.  Stacey,"  said  Jones,  calmly, 
coming  to  his  assistance  "  In  another  moment  we 
may  all  be  in  eternity,  but  let  us  do  our  duty." 

With  his  own  hands  Jones  passed  the  lashing. 

On  the  gun-deck  below,  the  batteries  were  being 
fought  fiercely.  The  two  ships  were  lying  side  by 

206 


THE   INDOMITABLE   EGO 

side,  one  heading  in,  the  other  out,  the  bow  of  one 
by  the  stern  of  the  other,  the  starboard  side  of  the 
Serapis  closely  touching  the  starboard  side  of  the 
Richard.  In  the  hope  that  the  Richard  would  drift 
clear,  Captain  Pearson  now  dropped  his  port  anchor ; 
in  vain,  no  bull-dogs  ever  clung  to  foes  with  more 
tenacity  of  grip  than  did  those  two  ships  in  deadly 
grapple  joined  together.  The  Richard  and  the  Ser 
apis  were  fast  locked  for  good,  and  the  two  ships 
swung  to  the  tidal  current,  the  wind  being  again 
almost  entirely  killed.  In  that  position  they  lay  for 
the  next  two  hours,  or  until  the  battle  was  over. 

As  the  Englishman  had  not  hitherto  engaged  on 
the  starboard  side,  the  port  shutters  had  not  been 
opened,  and  the  close  contact  of  the  two  ships  ren 
dered  it  impossible  to  open  them  then.  The  Ser 
apis'  men  were  therefore  compelled  to  fire  through 
them,  blowing  off  the  port-lids.  It  was  necessary  for 
the  men  on  both  ships  to  extend  the  long  handles  of 
the  rammers  and  sponges  of  the  guns  through  the 
ports  into  the  other  ship  in  order  to  properly  load 
their  own  cannon.  Badinage  of  a  character  easily  to 
be  imagined  passed  back  and  forth  between  the  two 
crews,  though  nothing  interrupted  the  steady  and  per 
sistent  discharge  of  the  batteries.  The  battle  below 
was  literally  a  hand-to-hand  conflict  with  great  guns, 
all  the  advantages  in  number  and  size  being  with  the 
English. 

At  this  juncture  a  new  note  was  added  to  the  con 
flict.  Jones,  whose  eyes  were  everywhere  in  the 
battle,  observed  a  black  shadow  come  darting  athwart 

207 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

the  two  fighting  ships,  shutting  off  the  moonlight. 
It  was  the  Alliance. 

"Ah!"  he  said  to  himself,  "Landais  has  seen 
the  folly  of  his  disobedience  and  has  come  to  our 
assistance." 

As  the  American  ship,  with  her  French  captain  and 
half-English  crew,  loomed  up  between  him  and  the 
bright  moon,  he  thought  of  course  that  she  would 
range  down  upon  the  unengaged  side  of  the  Serapis, 
and  with  a  few  broadsides  compel  her  to  strike  at 
once.  But  no,  the  Alliance  under  full  sail  stood  on. 
Her  men  were  at  quarters,  ports  triced  up,  lanterns 
lighted.  She  was  passing  the  bow  of  the  Serapis 
now.  Why  did  she  not  fire?  The  insane  and 
treacherous  Landais  held  steadily  on  until  he  was 
standing  squarely  across  the  stern  of  the  Richard. 
Now  she  was  drawing  past  them  as  well.  A  com 
mand  rang  out.  Good  God  !  What  was  that? 

Jones  was  well-nigh  petrified  with  astonishment 
when  at  short  range  the  Alliance  poured  in  a  raking 
broadside,  of  which  the  Richard  received  the  brunt, 
though  it  was  apparently  discharged  impartially  at 
the  two  ships.  As  Landais  drew  past  the  stern,  the 
helm  of  the  Alliance  was  shifted.  She  swung  parallel 
to  the  Richard,  poured  in  another  broadside,  circled 
the  Richard  forward,  and  raked  her  again  !  The  last 
discharge  was  a  frightful  one.  The  shot  at  close 
range  swept  the  crowded  decks  of  the  American  ship, 
which  seemed  actually  to  quiver  and  flinch  at  this 
treacherous  blow.  This  broadside  did  much  damage, 
killing  and  wounding  many  on  the  forecastle,  among 

208 


THE   INDOMITABLE   EGO 

them  Midshipman  Caswell,  mortally.    Shrieks,  groans, 
and  cries  of  startled  surprise  and  dismay  rose  with 
increasing  volume  from  the  ship. 
"  The  Alliance,  the  Alliance  —  " 
"  We  are  betrayed  !     We  are  betrayed  !  " 
"The  English  have    got   the    ship!"  came  from 
every  side  in  wild  confusion. 

"  This  is  the  Richard,"  shouted  Jones  at  the  top  of 
his  voice  at  the  first  fire.  "  Hold  your  fire  !  Show 
the  private  signals  there !  "  he  cried  hastily  to  the 
faithful  Brooks;  but  the  Alliance  paid  no  attention 
to  these  and  other  warning  cries.  As  the  three 
broadsides  were  delivered  by  the  American  frigate, 
the  men,  in  their  perfectly  excusable  terror  at  this 
treacherous  blow  in  the  back,  actually  began  to 
break  from  their  quarters  and  leave  the  guns.  That 
was  never  to  be  thought  of  under  any  circumstances. 
"  Back  !  "  shouted  Jones,  promptly.  "  Back  to 
your  quarters,  every  mother's  son  of  you !  Shoot 
the  first  man  that  flinches  from  the  guns !  "  Dale 
and  De  Weibert  and  the  midshipman  gallantly 
seconded  his  orders ;  and  the  Alliance,  sailing  away 
toward  the  Pallas  and  delivering  no  more  shot  upon 
them,  the  conflict  was  resumed.  That  the  men  could 
be  got  to  the  guns  again  after  this  frightfully  unset 
tling  attack,  was  a  supreme  testimony  to  the  quality 
of  their  officers,  and  to  their  own  as  well. 

Indeed,  upon  the  part  of  the  Serapis  the  battle  had 

never  been  intermitted.     The  long  eighteens  of  her 

main  battery  had   simply  silenced   and   dismounted, 

knocked  to  pieces,  and  put  out  of  action  nearly  all  the 

14  209 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

twelves  on  the  main-deck  of  the  Richard.  The  star 
board  side  of  the  American  had  been  beaten  in,  and 
the  port  side  beaten  out  by  the  heavy  fire  at  close 
range  until  the  British  were  literally  firing  through  a 
hole ;  the  shot  hurtling  through  the  air  and  falling 
harmlessly  in  the  water  far  on  the  farther  side.  The 
underpinning  of  the  upper  decks  of  the  ship  was  of 
course  nearly  knocked  to  pieces.  Why  the  decks 
did  not  fall  in  and  the  whole  thing  collapse  was  a 
mystery. 

There  had  been  no  fighting  at  all  on  the  berth-deck 
since  the  bursting  of  the  three  guns,  but  poor  little 
Payne  had  hung  grimly  to  his  post.  One  by  one  the 
men  of  the  guarding  squad  had  been  picked  off  by 
stray  shot  until  there  were  none  left  but  he  and  the 
master-at-arms.  Several  shot  from  the  British  had 
entered  below  the  water-line  of  the  Richard,  and  she 
was  making  water  fast.  There  was  nearly  four  feet 
of  water  in  the  hold  then,  and  it  was  rising.  The 
prisoners  below  were  in  a  wild  state  of  terror.  Im 
precations,  curses,  appeals,  had  come  up  through  the 
gratings  over  the  hatchway,  to  which  the  young  man 
had  turned  a  deaf  year. 

To  the  other  dangers  of  the  battle,  fire  now  added 
its  devastating  touch.  In  fact,  both  ships  were  aflame 
in  several  places.  The  burning  gun-wads  had  lodged 
in  the  chains  and  other  inflammable  positions,  and 
writhing,  tossing,  serpent-like  torches  threw  their  hoi 
light  over  the  scene  of  terror.  As  the  smoke  drifted 
down  the  hatchway,  the  prisoners  in  the  hold  could 
stand  it  no  longer.  There  was  a  sudden  rush  below 


THE   INDOMITABLE   EGO 

toward  the  opening ;  the  gratings  were  splintered  and 
broken  by  the  thrust  of  a  piece  of  timber ;  a  head  or 
two  appeared  in  the  clear;  hands  clutched  at  the 
combings. 

"  Back !  "  shouted  Payne,  trying  to  steady  his  boy 
ish  voice. 

"  No  !  D  —  n  your  baby  face  !  "  shouted  the  first 
prisoner,  furiously,  clutching  desperately  at  the  comb 
ing,  while  he  was  being  lifted  up  in  the  arms  of  the 
men  below.  "  D'  ye  think  we  '11  stay  here  and  be 
drowned  like  bloody  rats  in  a  hole !  " 

With  white  lips  and  a  sinking  heart  the  boy  thrust 
his  pistol  full  into  the  man's  face,  and  with  a  trem 
bling  finger  pulled  the  trigger.  He  did  the  like  to 
the  next  man  with  a  second  pistol.  To  seize  the 
musket  of  a  dead  marine  and  point  it  at  the  third, 
was  the  work  of  a  second.  Awed  by  this  resolution 
and  the  promptitude  of  his  action,  the  other  prisoners 
fell  back  for  the  time.  The  sweat  stood  out  on  the 
forehead  of  the  young  midshipman.  He  had  shot  a 
man — two  men  —  in  cold  blood!  It  seemed  like 
murder.  But  he  had  done  his  duty.  The  words  of 
the  captain  rang  in  his  ear :  "  Keep  them  down  !  " 

It  was  hot — hot  as  hell — on  the  berth-deck. 
The  smoke  poured  in  thick,  suffocating  clouds  be 
tween  decks.  The  wavering  reflections  from  the 
flames  on  every  side  accentuated  the  horror.  Bands 
of  men  flitted  by  ghost-like,  here  and  there,  with 
buckets  of  water,  striving  to  fight  the  flames ;  lances 
of  light  leaped  across  the  deck  from  the  protruding 
muzzles  of  the  guns  on  the  Serapis,  piercing  the 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

gloomy  darkness  with  angry  flashes.  Bullets,  grape, 
splinters  of  timber,  solid  shot,  bits  of  torn  humanity, 
whistled  past  his  head.  He  was  wild,  crazy ;  the 
hugeness  of  the  tragedy  about  him  oppressed  him 
direfully.  There  was  a  weight  in  his  bosom,  a  chok 
ing  in  his  throat ;  the  bitter,  acrid  taste  of  the  burned 
powder  was  in  his  mouth ;  the  sickening  smell  of  reek 
ing  blood  pervaded  his  being;  he  longed  to  throw 
down  his  weapon  and  fly,  anywhere,  to  get  a  respite 
from  the  infernal  demand  upon  him.  But  he  was  a 
sailor,  the  son  of  a  race  of  fighters.  He  held  on. 
The  deep  roar  of  the  guns  above  him  told  him  that 
the  battle  was  still  going  on.  Suddenly  out  of  the 
smoke  appeared  the  burly  form  of  the  carpenter, 
wounded,  blotched  with  red  and  gray,  leaping  for 
ward,  crying  in  terror-stricken  accents,  — 

"  We  're  sinking  !  we  're  sinking  !  Four  feet  of 
water  in  the  hold  !  " 

The  gunner  and  his  mates,  apparently  equally 
terrified,  came  running  from  the  magazines  as  they 
caught  the  contagion  of  the  moment.  They  sprang 
to  the  gun-deck  and  thence  to  the  spar-deck,  repeat 
ing  the  carpenter's  cry,  "  We  're  sinking !  we  're  sink 
ing  !  Quarter  !  Quarter  !  " 

"  We  must  release  the  prisoners ! "  cried  the 
master-at-arms,  turning  toward  the  little  officer. 

"  Not  while  I  live  !  "  said  Payne,  resolutely,  all  his 
courage  coming  back  to  him  in  a  moment. 

"The  ship  is  sinking;  the  battle  is  lost;  make 
way !  "  returned  the  burly  master-at-arms,  springing 
toward  the  hatchway. 

212 


THE   INDOMITABLE   EGO 

"  Back  !  "  cried  the  midshipman,  fiercely,  pointing 
his  musket  at  him ;  the  boy's  blood  was  up  now. 
"  Here  they  stay,  and  here  we  stay  !  The  orders  of 
the  captain  — " 

He  never  finished  his  words ;  a  grape-shot  struck 
him  fair  in  the  forehead.  The  master-at-arms  tore 
open  the  hatch-cover. 

"  On  deck  !  "  he  cried  ;   "  the  ship  is  sinking  !  " 

In  panic  terror,  crowding  and  trampling  upon 
each  other  like  a  mob  of  wild  beasts,  the  maddened 
prisoners  scrambled  up  the  hatchway,  and,  yelling 
like  animals,  ran  pell-mell  for  the  gun-deck.  The 
body  of  the  brave  midshipman  was  spurned,  crushed, 
and  broken  beneath  their  feet  as  they  ran. 


213 


CHAPTER  XXI 
The  Audacity  of  Despair 

ON  the  spar-deck  things  had  gone  better.  Though 
De  Chamillard  and  his  marines  had  been 
driven  from  the  poop  by  the  fire  of  the  English,  the 
men  in  the  tops  had  more  than  evened  that  reverse. 
As  the  two  ships  lay  side  by  side,  the  interlocking 
yards  made  a  convenient  bridge  from  one  to  the 
other,  over  which  a  bold  man  might  pass.  It  hap 
pened  that  some  of  the  choicest  spirits  on  the 
Richard  were  stationed  in  the  maintop.  Fanning, 
who  had  been  busily  engaged  with  small  arms,  saw 
his  opportunity.  As  the  little  parties  in  the  two 
tops  exchanged  volleys,  the  midshipman  threw  his 
men  on  the  yard;  and  as  the  smoke  cleared  away, 
the  astonished  British  saw  the  Americans  rushing 
toward  them. 

The  first  and  second  men  were  shot  down  and 
fell  to  the  deck  of  the  Serapis ;  the  third,  a  gigantic 
man,  by  a  desperate  leap  gained  a  foothold  in  the 
top.  Before  he  was  cut  down,  Fanning  and  another 
had  joined  him  over  the  futtock  shrouds;  two  men 
took  the  defenders  in  the  rear  by  way  of  the  lub 
ber's  hole;  the  rest  came  swarming.  The  force 
of  their  rush  carried  everything  before  it.  The 
English,  unable  to  stand  the  irresistible  onset,  were 

214 


THE   AUDACITY   OF   DESPAIR 

shot  down  or  thrown  out  of  the  top.  No  quarter 
was  asked  or  given.  The  Americans,  having  effected 
this  lodgement  in  the  maintop  of  the  Serapis,  now 
turned  their  fire  upon  the  fore  and  mizzen  tops,  and 
enabled  boarding  parties  from  their  own  ship  to 
gain  possession  of  all  the  upper  works  of  the 
enemy. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  gunner  and  the 
carpenter  reached  the  deck,  crying  that  the  ship 
was  sinking  and  proffering  surrender.  The  gunner 
ran  aft  shrieking,  "  Quarter  !  Quarter  !  "  intending 
to  lower  the  flag.  Jones,  who  had  been  superin 
tending  the  working  of  the  quarter-deck  guns,  which 
were  without  an  officer  since  Mease,  who  had  been 
fighting  heroically,  had  been  severely  wounded,  of 
course  heard  the  noise,  and  turning  about  saw  the 
gunner  running  for  the  flag.  Fortunately  the  flag 
had  been  shot  away ;  and  as  the  gunner  was  seeking 
it,  fumbling  over  the  halliards  in  the  darkness, 
Pearson,  hearing  the  cries,  called  out  again, — 

"  Do  you  ask  for  quarter?  " 

Jones  had  taken  two  long  leaps  across  the  deck 
to  the  side  of  the  gunner.  Seizing  his  discharged 
pistol,  he  brought  the  butt  of  it  heavily  down  upon 
the  forehead  of  the  man,  cracking  his  skull  and 
silencing  him  forever. 

"  Never !  "  he  shouted  in  reply  to  the  Englishman. 

"  Then  I  will  give  none  !  "  said  Pearson,  —  an 
entirely  superfluous  remark,  by  the  way. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the  "  Alliance  "  was 
seen  coming  down  again  as  before.  Jones  had  time 

2I5 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

but  for  one  glance  of  apprehension  when  he  heard 
the  noise  of  the  leaping  prisoners  below.  He  sprang 
to  the  main  hatch. 

"  The  prisoners  have  been  released,"  cried  De 
Weibert,  meeting  him ;  the  Frenchman  had  been 
toiling  like  a  hero  on  the  gun-deck.  "  The  battery 
is  silenced,  we  have  not  a  single  gun  to  work,  the 
ship  is  afire  !  We  must  yield  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

As  the  frightened  men  came  crowding  up  the 
hatchways,  Dale,  who  had  just  fired  the  only  remain 
ing  gun  on  the  deck  that  was  left  fit  for  action,  took 
in  the  situation  at  once.  He  stayed  the  rush  in  the 
nick  of  time  by  voice  and  action.  He  sprang  into 
the  midst  of  them,  threatening  them,  striking  them, 
beating  them  down,  driving  them  back  with  his 
sword.  It  was  a  magnificent  display  of  hardihood 
and  courage,  presence  of  mind  and  resource. 

"  To  the  pumps  !  "  he  cried  with  prompt  decision. 
"  For  your  lives,  men  !  The  English  ship  is  sinking, 
and  we  '11  go  down  with  her  unless  you  can  keep 
us  afloat !  "  he  shouted  in  thunder  tones  with  superb 
audacity.  The  battle  lost  was  won  again  in  that 
minute. 

"Well  done,  Richard!"  shouted  Jones,  leaping 
through  the  hatchway  and  seconding  the  daring 
ruse  of  his  noble  lieutenant  by  his  own  mighty 
voice  and  herculean  efforts,  crying  masterfully,  "  Get 
to  the  pumps,  men !  Lively !  for  God's  sake !  The 
ship  is  sinking  under  your  feet !  The  English  ship 
is  going !  " 

It  was  unparalleled  assurance,  but  it  won.  The 
216 


THE   AUDACITY   OF  DESPAIR 

two  officers  actually  succeeded  in  forcing  the  Eng 
lish  prisoners  to  man  the  pumps,  where  they  worked 
with  a  frantic  energy  born  of  their  persistent  daze 
of  terror.  This  left  the  regular  crew  of  the  ship 
free  to  fight  the  fires  and  to  do  what  they  could 
with  the  remaining  guns.  As  Jones  sprang  back  to 
the  quarter-deck,  the  surgeon,  covered  with  blood, 
and  appalled  at  the  carnage,  came  running  toward 
him,  crying,  — 

"The  ship  is  sinking,  sir!  The  cock-pit  is  under 
water !  I  have  no  place  to  stow  the  wounded.  We 
must  surrender !  " 

"  Strike  !  Strike  !  "  cried  De  Chamillard,  who  was 
wounded.  "  We  can  do  no  more  !  " 

"  What,  gentlemen !  "  cried  Jones,  "  would  you 
have  me  strike  to  a  drop  of  water  and  a  bit  of  fire? 
Up,  De  Chamillard !  Here,  doctor,  help  me  get 
this  gun  over." 

The  surgeon  hesitated,  looked  around  again,  and, 
not  liking  the  appearance  of  things  about  him, 
turned  and  ran  below.  Not  to  his  station,  for  that 
was  under  water.  His  mates  had  been  killed.  He 
wandered  up  and  down  the  decks,  doing  what  he 
could  —  which  was  but  little  —  for  the  wounded 
where  they  lay.  Assisted  by  two  or  three  of  the 
seamen,  with  his  own  hands  Jones  dragged  one 
of  the  nine-pounders  from  the  disengaged  side  of 
the  deck  across  to  the  starboard  side  to  take  the 
place  of  a  dismounted  one ;  and,  while  the  heavy 
battery  of  the  Serapis  continued  its  unavailing  fire 
below,  these  three  small  guns  under  his  personal 

217 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

direction  concentrated  their  fire  upon  the  mainmast 
of  the  Serapis. 

The  fortuitous  position  of  the  Americans  in  the 
enemy's  tops  enabled  them  to  pour  a  perfect  rain 
of  small-arm  fire  upon  the  spar-deck  of  the  Serapis 
with  little  possibility  of  effective  return.  Man  after 
man  was  shot  down  by  the  side  of  the  intrepid  Pear 
son,  who,  whatever  his  other  lack  of  qualifications, 
showed  that  he  possessed  magnificent  personal  cour 
age,  until  he  remained  practically  alone  upon  the 
deck,  —  alone,  and  as  yet  undaunted. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  scene.  It  is  not 
within  the  power  of  words  to  portray  the  situation, 
after  over  two  hours  of  the  most  frightful  and  deter 
mined  combat.  No  two  ships  were  ever  in  such 
condition ;  no  battle  that  was  ever  fought  was  like  it. 
The  decks  were  covered  with  dead  and  dying ;  bands 
of  men  in  different  directions  were  fighting  the  fires; 
the  smoke  in  lowering  clouds  hung  heavily  over  the 
ships,  for  the  wind  had  died  and  there  was  scarcely 
enough  to  blow  it  away.  The  pale  moonlight 
mingled  with  the  red  glare  from  the  flames  and 
threw  an  added  touch  of  lurid  ghastliness  trem 
bling  over  the  smoke-wrapt  sea.  From  below  came 
the  steady  roar  of  the  Serapis'  guns,  from  above  the 
continuous  crackling  of  the  Richard's  small  arms. 
The  noises  blended  in  a  hideous  diapason  of  de 
struction,  which  rose  to  an  offended  Heaven  in  the 
horrid  discord  of  an  infernal  region.  The  prisoners, 
still  under  the  influence  of  their  terror,  toiled  at  the 
clanking  pumps.  The  water  gushed  redly  from  the 

218 


THE  AUDACITY   OF  DESPAIR 

bleeding  scuppers.  Order,  tactics,  discipline,  had 
been  forgotten.  Men  glared  with  blood-shot  eyes, 
set  their  teeth  beneath  foam-flaked  lips,  and  fought 
where  they  stood,  —  fought  in  frenzy  against  what 
ever  came  to  hand,  whether  it  was  the  English  ship, 
or  the  roaring  flames,  or  the  rushing  waters.  They 
recked  nothing  of  consequences.  In  their  frantic 
battle-lust  they  beat  upon  the  sides  of  the  other  ship 
with  their  bare  hands  and  bloody  knuckles,  and  knew 
not  what  they  did.  Their  breath  came  quick  and 
short;  the  red  of  battle  was  before  their  vision;  they 
had  but  one  thought.  Slay  !  Kill !  One  would  have 
said  that  the  brute  instinct  was  uppermost  in  every 
heart.  But  in  scenes  of  this  kind  it  is  not  the 
greatest  brute  that  wins,  but  the  greatest  soul;  and 
the  one  man  who  still  preserved  his  calmness  in 
this  orgy  of  war  was  the  man  to  win  the  battle  — 
Jones. 

The  Alliance  had  repeated  her  previous  perfor 
mance,  but  the  men  had  been  worked  to  such  a 
pitch  that  they  never  heeded  her;  many  of  them  did 
not  know  of  it.  Both  ships  were  thoroughly  beaten. 
It  was  only  a  question  as  to  which  would  realize  it 
first,  who  would  first  surrender.  Nay,  there  was 
no  question  whatever  of  Jones'  surrender  under  any 
circumstances  whatsoever.  Pearson  would  give  up 
under  some  conditions,  and  those  had  at  last  arrived. 
That  was  the  essential  difference  between  the  two 
men ;  it  was  radical. 


219 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Sinking,  but  Triumphant 

AND  now  happened  the  incident  which  finally 
decided  the  battle.  By  Jones's  orders,  quanti 
ties  of  hand  grenades,  a  small,  highly  combustible, 
and  explosive  shell,  about  the  size  of  a  large  apple, 
had  been  placed  in  the  tops.  After  the  battle  in 
mid-air  by  which  the  Americans  had  gained  posses 
sion,  he  shouted  out  that  they  be  used  in  accordance 
with  his  instructions.  Fanning  sent  a  man  with  a 
bucket  of  grenades  out  on  the  extreme  end  of  the 
main-yard-arm.  Wrapping  his  legs  around  the  yard, 
he  sat  down,  and  leaning  against  the  lift,  deliber 
ately  threw  his  bomb-shells,  one  by  one,  down  the 
open  main  hatchway  of  the  Serapis.  The  powder 
boys  of  the  latter  ship  had  been  bringing  charges 
of  powder  for  the  various  guns  from  the  magazine ; 
and  as  many  of  the  guns  had  been  put  out  of 
action  by  the  American  fire,  the  supply  had  been 
greater  than  the  demand.  A  large  pile  had  been 
carelessly  allowed  to  accumulate  upon  the  deck. 
One  of  the  grenades  carromed  against  the  hatch 
combing,  and  fell  into  the  centre  of  the  charges. 

There  was  a  detonating  crash,  so  loud,  so  terrific, 
that  it  actually  seemed  to  blow  even  the  roar  of  the 
battle  into  eternity.  Twenty  or  thirty  men  were 


SINKING,   BUT   TRIUMPHANT 

killed  or  badly  wounded,  many  of  them  torn  to 
atoms,  by  the  explosion,  and  the  rest  of  the  men  on 
the  Englishman's  deck  were  dazed  and  driven  from 
their  stations  by  the  concussion.  The  clothes  of 
many  were  actually  ripped  from  their  bodies,  so 
that  they  stood  naked  and  wondering,  though  they 
were  otherwise  unhurt.  A  long  moment  of  ghastly 
silence  succeeded  this  accident  on  the  Serapis.  Men 
everywhere  paused  with  bated  breath  to  wait  the 
issue.  The  Serapis,  dragging  the  Richard,  reeled 
and  rocked  under  the  shock.  It  was  a  last  catas 
trophe  which  broke  the  strength  of  Pearson's  endur 
ance  and  ended  his  resistance.  He  could  fight 
no  more.  Was  it  the  devil  himself  who  commanded 
the  other  ship?  The  English  captain  sprang  aft 
to  the  mizzenmast.  A  great  English  standard  had 
been  nailed  to  the  timber  of  the  spar.  With  his 
own  hands  he  tore  it  down.  The  battle  was  over ! 
At  the  same  moment  the  mainmast  of  the  Serapis 
undermined,  and,  eaten  away  in  its  heart  by  the 
gnawing  attack  of  the  quarter-deck  guns  of  the 
Richard,  came  crashing  down,  a  hopeless  ruin,  carry 
ing  some  of  the  Americans  into  eternity  as  it  fell. 

"  They  have  struck  their  flag  /"  cried  Jones,  who 
had  sprung  upon  the  rail  at  the  moment  of  the 
explosion  and  had  witnessed  Pearson's  action. 
"Cease  firing!  " 

His  voice  rang  through  the  ship  with  such  a  note 
of  proud  triumph  as  has  rarely  been  heard  within  the 
fought  over  confines  of  the  narrow  seas. 

"They  have  struck;  the  ship  is  ours !"  ran  from 

221 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

man  to  man  among  the  Americans.  Wild  cheers 
broke  into  the  night  in  an  ever-increasing  volume  of 
sound. 

"  Send  Mr.  Dale  to  me,"  said  Jones  to  young 
Brooks  as  the  flag  came  down.  The  midshipman 
had  been  wounded,  but  still  kept  his  station. 

As  Dale  came  running  toward  his  captain,  Jones 
cried,  — 

"  Muster  a  boarding  party  and  take  charge  of  the 
prize  ;  the  fight  is  over  !  " 

But  no,  the  battle  was  not  over.  A  few  moments 
before,  an  English  ship  captain  among  the  prisoners 
had  succeeded  in  escaping  through  the  rents  in  the 
shattered  sides  of  the  two  ships  and  had  told  the 
plight  of  the  Richard  to  the  first  lieutenant  of 
the  Serapis.  With  this  information  the  men  on 
the  gun-deck  had  been  rallied,  and  led  by  their 
officers  had  returned  to  their  quarters  and  had  re 
sumed  the  battle.  They,  too,  were  heroes.  Mayrant, 
who  ran  aft  from  the  forecastle  as  he  saw  Pearson 
strike  his  flag,  jumped  on  the  rail  by  Jones's  orders 
and  followed  Dale  upon  the  deck  of  the  English 
ship.  Such  was  the  confusion  of  the  moment  that 
as  Mayrant  leaped  on  the  deck  he  was  actually  run 
through  the  thigh  by  a  pike  in  the  hand  of  a  wounded 
British  sailor.  Pearson  was  standing  alone  as  if 
dazed,  on  the  quarter-deck  of  his  ship,  holding  one 
clenched  hand  against  his  breast,  with  the  other 
grasping  his  trailing  flag.  In  his  face  was  that  look 
of  defeat  and  despair  which  is  the  saddest  aspect  of 
baffled  impotent  humanity. 


SINKING,   BUT  TRIUMPHANT 

"Have  you  struck,  sir?"  cried  Dale,  stopping 
before  the  English  captain. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  grim  reply;  his  voice  was  a  broken 
whisper  indicating  in  the  tones  his  mental  agony. 

"  I  am  come  to  take  possession." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Pearson,  bitterly,  as  before, 
and  dropping  the  flag;  then  he  reached  for  his 
sword. 

Just  at  this  moment,  Pascoe,  the  first  lieutenant  of 
the  Serapis,  came  bounding  up  the  hatchway  from 
the  deck  below. 

"  A  few  more  broadsides,  sir,  and  they  are  ours," 
he  cried  impetuously.  "They  are  in  a  sinking  —  " 

"  The  ship  has  struck,  sir,  and  you  are  my 
prisoner,"  interrupted  Dale,  quickly,  seeing  the 
necessity  of  promptitude. 

"  Struck  !  This  ship  !  Your  prisoner  !  "  cried  the 
astonished  Englishman. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Your  sword  !  "  demanded  Dale.  The 
man  hesitated. 

"  Disarm  him  !  "  cried  the  American.  Two  or 
three  of  the  boarding  parties  closed  around  them. 

"  Sir,"  asked  the  lieutenant,  turning  to  his  captain, 
"  is  it  true  that  we  have  struck?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Pearson,  hoarsely. 

"  My  God  !  "  cried  Pascoe.  There  was  a  momen 
tary  silence. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  sir,"  he  added.  "  I 
will  go  below  and  call  off  the  men,"  said  the  lieu 
tenant,  turning  away. 

"  No,  sir  !  "  interrupted  Dale.  "  You  will  accom- 
223 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR     , 

pany  your  captain  on  board  our  ship  at  once.  Pass 
the  word  to  cease  firing.  The  ship  has  struck." 

As  the  English  captain  and  his  first  lieutenant 
stepped  over  the  rail  upon  the  high  poop  of  the 
Richard,  the  roar  of  the  guns  died  away,  this  time 
for  good.  Seizing  a  dangling  rope  they  swung 
themselves  inboard,  and  found  themselves  face  to 
face  with  a  little  man  in  a  tattered  uniform,  hatless, 
covered  with  dust  and  smoke,  powder-stained  and 
grimy  with  the  soil  of  the  battle.  Blood  spattering 
from  a  wound  in  his  forehead  had  coagulated  upon 
his  cheek.  He  was  a  hideous-looking  spectacle. 
The  red  firelight  played  luridly  upon  him.  Noth 
ing  but  the  piercing  black  eyes  which  burned  and 
gleamed  out  of  his  face  in  the  darkness  bespoke  the 
high  humanity  of  the  man. 

"Is  it—" 

"  Captain  John  Paul  Jones,  at  your  service,  gentle 
men." 

"  My  sword,"  said  Pearson,  tendering  it  to  him 
formally.  "  I  regret,"  he  added  ungraciously,  "  at 
being  compelled  to  strike  to  a  man  who  has  fought 
with  a  halter  around  his  neck." 

"  Sir,"  said  Jones,  with  a  magnanimity  as  great  as 
his  valor,  "  you  have  fought  like  a  hero,  and  I  make 
no  doubt  that  your  sovereign  will  reward  you  in  the 
most  ample  manner.  Mr.  Brooks,  escort  these 
gentlemen  to  my  cabin." 

And  which  was  the  gentleman  then? 

The  two  ships  were  now  cut  adrift,  Dale  remaining 
on  the  Serapis  to  take  command.  He  had  sat  down 

224 


SINKING,   BUT  TRIUMPHANT 

a  moment  for  rest,  and  as  he  attempted  to  rise  to 
his  feet  he  fell  to  the  deck,  discovering  only  in 
that  way  that  he  had  been  severely  wounded,  —  a 
thing  which  had  escaped  his  notice  in  the  heat  of 
the  action. 

By  the  most  heroic  efforts  of  the  prize  crew  on 
the  Serapis  and  the  remaining  men  on  the  Richard, 
the  English  prisoners  were  driven  back  into  the 
hold,  the  flames  subdued,  and  some  semblance  of 
order  restored.  Cottineau  had  captured  the  Pallas 
after  an  hour  of  good  hard  fighting,  and  the  victory 
was  entirely  with  the  Americans.  But  it  had  been 
purchased  at  a  fearful  cost.  There  is  no  battle 
on  land  or  sea  in  the  world's  history  where  the 
percentage  of  loss  was  greater  than  the  battle  be 
tween  the  Serapis  and  the  Richard. 

About  seventy  per  cent  on  the  Serapis  and  over 
fifty  per  cent  on  the  Richard  had  been  killed  or 
wounded,  and  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  was  in  a 
sinking  condition.  She  had  been  literally  beaten  to 
pieces.  It  was  not  safe  to  remain  upon  her  decks. 
Consequently  the  prisoners  and  the  wounded,  groan 
ing  and  crying  in  anguish,  were  removed  to  the 
Serapis.  In  the  early  morning  of  the  day  following, 
the  brave  ship  which  had  earned  undying  immor 
tality  in  her  worn-out  old  age,  because  for  three  brief 
hours  John  Paul  Jones  and  his  men  had  battled  upon 
her  decks,  sank  forever  beneath  the  sea.  The  great 
battle-flag  under  which  she  had  fought  had  been 
reset,  and  fluttered  above  her  as  she  went  down. 

The  refitting  of  the  prizes  for  the  returning  voyage 
15  225 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

was  at  once  begun.  To  anticipate  events,  it  is 
recorded  that  Captain  Landais,  the  jealous  and 
false-hearted  Frenchman  who  had  so  treacherously 
manoeuvred  the  Alliance,  was  subsequently  court- 
martialled  and  dismissed  from  the  service.  He  should 
have  been  hanged  from  her  highest  yard-arm. 


226 


BOOK     VI 

THE    HAND    OF   GOD 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

On  Board  the  Serapis  again 

"'"T^HE  battle  is  on,"  said  O'Neill,  in  the  small 
I  boat,  to  Elizabeth,  "and  I  am  not  there. 
Oh,  God,  give  us  a  little  breeze!"  he  cried.  In 
anticipation  he  swung  the  oars  inboard,  stepped  the 
mast  once  more,  letting  the  sail  hang,  and  then 
resumed  his  place  by  her  side. 

"God  is  good  to  me,"  she  said  at  last.  "He  will 
not  let  you  be  there  to  be  killed.  You  have  had 
trouble  enough,  and  have  run  enough  risks.  He 
wishes  to  keep  you  for  me."  He  shook  his  head. 

"  My  place  is  there ;  my  duty  is  on  yonder  deck. 
Would  that  I  had  returned  to  the  ship  without  going 
up  to  the  castle  !  " 

"Why,  then,"  she  said  reproachfully,  "you  would 
not  have  seen  me !  " 

"  I  know,"  he  replied,  "but  then  I  would  be  in  my 
rightful  place,  fighting  where  I  should  be ;  Coventry 
would  be  honored  in  doing  his  duty;  the  admiral 
would  be  happy ;  your  marriage  would  take  place  —  " 

"And  you,"  she  cried,  womanlike,  placing  him 
in  the  balance,  as  opposed  to  all  the  rest,  —  "would 
you  have  been  happy  ?  " 

"Happiness  has  nothing  to  do  with  that,"  he  an- 
229 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

swered  impatiently;  "it  is  a  question  of  duty.  I 
have  been  a  fool. " 

"  Has  the  fool  been  rewarded  in  accordance  with 
his  folly?"  she  asked  him.  "Nay,  look  at  me 
before  you  reply,"  she  cried  imperiously,  turning 
his  head  until  his  eyes  looked  into  her  own.  In  the 
face  of  that  girl,  in  the  limpid  light  of  her  magic 
glance,  in  that  mystic  night,  there  was  but  one 
answer  to  be  made. 

"I  say  no  more,"  he  replied,  kissing  her  softly. 
"You  are  right.  I  have  you.  You  are  worth  it  all. 
I  will  try  to  be  a  philosopher  about  all  the  rest." 

Meanwhile  the  intermittent  reports  had  been  suc 
ceeded  by  a  steady  roar  of  artillery  which  reverber 
ated  and  rolled  along  the  surface  of  the  water.  The 
Scarborough,  some  distance  from  the  Serapis  and 
the  Richard  to  the  northwest,  was  apparently  hotly 
engaged  with  the  Pallas;  while  the  Alliance  seemed 
to  be  sailing  back  and  forth  between  the  two  groups 
of  combatants,  pouring  in  a  random  fire  upon  friend 
and  foe  alike.  Great  clouds  of  smoke,  punctured  by 
vivid  flashes  of  light,  overhung  the  ships. 

Back  on  the  heights  above  the  town  the  people 
swarmed.  O'Neill  could  picture  the  old  admiral 
walking  up  and  down  the  terrace,  glass  in  hand, 
while  he  surveyed  the  battle.  There  seemed  to  be 
little  manoeuvring  going  on  between  the  ships, 
except  on  the  part  of  the  Alliance,  and  the  combat 
seemed  to  be  a  yard-arm  to  yard-arm  fight.  Once 
or  twice  the  roar  of  the  battle  died  away  temporarily, 
and  the  smoke  blowing  off  to  leeward  disclosed  the 

230 


ON   BOARD   THE   SERAPIS  AGAIN 

two  ships  side  by  side.  Sometimes  great  wreaths 
of  flame,  which  told  that  one  or  the  other  ship  had 
been  set  on  fire,  would  leap  up  into  the  air. 

The  feelings  of  the  young  officer  can  be  imagined. 
Adrift  in  that  little  boat,  watching  the  awful  com 
bat,  not  even  the  presence  of  the  woman  he  loved 
could  compensate  him  for  his  absence,  in  spite  of 
his  attempted  philosophy.  The  fever  of  the  conflict 
possessed  him.  His  breath  came  hard;  the  sweat 
stood  on  his  forehead.  He  prayed  as  never  before 
for  a  breeze  to  take  him  to  the  fight.  He  murmured 
incoherent  words  which  told  to  the  tender  listener 
something  of  the  terrible  struggle  which  raged 
within  his  bosom.  So  the  long  hours  wore  away. 

Toward  eleven  o'clock  they  heard  a  terrific  explo 
sion,  and  then  the  roar  of  the  battle  slackened,  and 
finally  died  away.  When  the  smoke  drifted  off, 
the  two  ships  were  lying  side  by  side.  Further  off, 
almost  hull  down,  were  the  Scarborough  and  the 
Pallas,  who  had  ceased  their  fight  some  time  before. 
The  battle  was  over.  Who  had  won  ?  It  was  a  ques 
tion  he  could  not  answer. 

But  it  was  late,  and  the  breeze  so  long  wished  for 
now  sprung  up  once  more,  and  the  little  boat  gath 
ered  way  and  began  to  slip  through  the  water  again. 
The  sky  had  become  overcast;  it  grew  very  dark; 
the  wind  freshened  steadily,  and  finally  blew  so 
strong  that  it  required  all  the  skill  and  address  of 
which  O'Neill  was  possessed  to  keep  his  unsteady 
little  craft  from  capsizing.  Finally  he  was  forced 
to  drop  the  sail  and  take  to  the  oars  to  keep  afloat  at 

231 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

all.  About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  squall  of 
rain  came  down,  and  they  lost  sight  of  the  ships. 
Toward  morning  the  wind  moderated  again,  and  they 
were  enabled  to  set  sail  once  more.  But  the  ocean 
was  covered  with  a  dense  mist;  they  were  in  the 
thick  of  it,  and  could  see  nothing.  As  nearly  as 
he  could  judge  without  the  aid  of  a  compass,  O'Neill 
headed  the  boat  toward  the  place  where  they  had 
last  made  out  the  two  ships. 

"  We  ought  to  pick  them  up  in  a  few  moments 
now,"  he  said  to  the  cowering,  frightened,  exhausted 
girl  crouching  down  in  the  stern  sheets  in  her  wet, 
sodden  garments,  which  clung  to  her  shivering 
figure.  The  night  had  been  too  much  for  her;  her 
physical  strength  had  almost  given  way,  though 
nothing  could  abate  the  affection  he  saw  shining 
still  in  her  tired  eyes.  "  Therefore,  in  a  few  moments 
we  shall  know  our  fate." 

"  How  is  that?  "  she  said,  rousing  herself  a  little. 

"If  Commodore  Jones  has  been  captured,"  he 
answered,  "  I  have  but  to  give  myself  up  and  redeem 
Coventry  and  —  you  know  the  rest." 

"Yes,"  she  replied  wearily  and  listlessly;  "let 
it  come.  We  have  fought  a  good  fight,  you  and  I ; 
we  can  do  no  more;  and  the  other  alternative?  " 

"Why,  in  that  case,"  he  said,  "we  shall  be  there, 
under  our  own  flag;  he,  too,  will  be  saved,  and  the 
rest  of  our  troubles  are  over." 

"What  think  you  of  the  prospect?"  she  asked, 
brightening  a  little. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  say.  The  Serapis  and  the  Scar- 
232 


ON   BOARD   THE   SERAPIS  AGAIN 

borough  should  easily  be  more  than  a  match  for  our 
whole  squadron.  The  Richard  is  almost  worthless 
as  a  fighting  ship,  as  I  said.  Landais,  who  com 
mands  the  Alliance,  is  insane.  I  can't  prophesy 
what  Cottineau  will  do  with  the  Pallas.  We  have 
but  one  advantage." 

"  And  is  that  a  great  one  ?  " 

"The  greatest;  it  may  have  decided  the  battle 
in  our  favor." 

"  What  is  that,  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"It  is  not  'what,'  but  'who,'"  he  answered, 
smiling. 

"  Who,  then  ?  " 

"John  Paul  Jones  himself!  He  alone  is  worth  a 
thousand." 

The  light  from  the  rising  sun,  assisted  by  the 
fitful  wind,  began  to  dispel '  the  mists  of  the 
morning. 

"See!"  cried  the  girl,  pointing.  "There,  right 
ahead  of  us!  Are  not  those  the  sails  of  a  ship? 
What  ship?" 

Wraithlike,  as  she  pointed  at  a  rift  in  the  mist, 
and  wreathed  in  clouds  of  vapor,  there  appeared,  for 
a  second,  the  light  canvas  of  a  great  ship.  Follow 
ing  her  outstretched  finger,  he  caught  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  it,  but  saw  nothing  to  reassure  him  as  to 
the  result  of  the  battle;  the  sight  struck  terror  to 
his  heart.  Such  canvas  as  that  was  never  set  above 
the  decks  of  the  Richard.  As  he  looked  the  mist 
closed  around  them  again;  the  ship  had  vanished. 

"Ah,  't  is  gone,  but  I  am  certain  I  saw  it.  Which 
233 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

was  it  ? "  she  continued,  hastily  rousing  herself  at 
the  prospect  of  decision.  " 'T  is  a  ship,  is  it  not? 
But  which  one? " 

"The  mist  is  thinning  again.  'T  will  clear  away 
in  a  moment,"  he  answered  evasively.  "  We  shall 
see  more  distinctly  then;  she  was  making  toward 
us,  I  think."  He  could  not  bear  to  dash  her  hopes 
with  the  assurance  that  it  was  not  the  Richard, 
though  he  had  resigned  himself  to  death  in  conse 
quence  of  his  glimpse  at  once.  It  was  useless  to 
try  to  fly;  the  mist  was  rising  in  every  direction, 
and  before  they  could  have  gone  a  hundred  yards 
they  would  be  visible  to  the  ship  in  front  of  them, 
now  shoving  her  huge  bulk  through  the  thinning 
clouds  of  vapor  which  enshrouded  her.  The  next 
moment  it  rolled  away.  The  sunlight  flooded  the 
heavens  in  transformation;  the  breeze  tossed  the  sea 
into  a  thousand  white-capped  waves.  It  was  morn 
ing.  Some  one  on  the  ship  saw  the  little  boat  with 
its  two  occupants  at  once;  an  officer  leaped  to  the 
rail. 

"  Boat  ahoy ! "  rang  out  over  the  water.  The 
great  white  frigate,  deep  sunken,  as  if  deeply  laden, 
was  moving  sluggishly  through  the  water,  and  was 
almost  upon  them. 

"The  ship  !  "  screamed  the  girl,  wildly. 

"It  is  the  Serapis ! "  answered  O'Neill,  in  a 
hollow  voice. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said,  sinking  back  exhausted.  "  After 
all,  it  is  over.  I  shall  never  survive  you." 

"Boat  ahoy,  there! "  again  cried  the  officer,  stand- 
234 


ON   BOARD   THE   SERAPIS  AGAIN 

ing  on  the  rail,  pistol  in  hand.  "  Answer  my  hail, 
or  I  fire.  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  your  prisoner,  escaped  last  night  from  that 
ship,"  cried  O'Neill.  "I  wish  to  deliver  myself 
up." 

"Come  alongside,  then,"  said  the  officer,  turning 
inboard  and  giving  a  sharp  command.  The  way  of 
the  ship  was  checked;  she  was  thrown  up  into  the 
wind,  and  as  her  broadside  slowly  swung  opposite 
O'Neill,  he  saw  that  her  mainmast  was  gone  and 
that  she  was  frightfully  cut  up,  and  bore  evidence 
of  having  participated  in  a  tremendous  action. 
Away  off  to  the  northeast  a  little  cluster  of  ships 
were  seen  on  the  horizon,  too  far  off  to  distinguish 
them.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  Richard  that  he 
could  see.  In  a  few  seconds  the  boat  was  brought 
alongside  the  gangway.  Elizabeth  clambered  up  the 
ladder  with  his  assistance,  and  they  stepped  upon 
the  decks.  A  frightful  scene  presented  itself. 

Upon  one  side  amidships,  dead  men,  half-naked, 
covered  with  coagulated  blood,  were  literally  piled 
up  in  a  great  heap.  The  deck  itself  was  covered 
with  grime  and  blood;  and  a  handful  of  men,  most  of 
them  wounded  in  some  way,  were  distributed  about 
the  ship,  endeavoring  to  effect  some  restoration  to 
order.  Guns  here  and  there  were  dismounted; 
ropes  cut  in  every  direction  were  lying  entangled  in 
wild  confusion  about  the  fife-rails  and  masts.  The 
broken  mainmast  thrust  its  jagged  end  a  few  feet 
into  the  air,  above  the  deck;  the  rest  of  it  was  gone. 

Spars  everywhere  were  shattered,  and  great  rifts 
235 


THE  GRIP  OF   HONOR 

appeared  in  the  flapping  canvas.  The  rail  and  bul 
warks  were  broken  and  smashed  on  every  side. 
There  was  not  a  single  boat  left  swinging  at  the 
davits.  Splintered  woodwork  showed  where  num 
berless  shots  had  taken  effect,  and  charred  pieces  of 
timber  on  every  hand  added  heartbreaking  evidence 
of  conflagration's  devastating  touch.  From  the 
depths  beneath  the  deck  came  low  groans  and  mur 
murs  of  pain,  accentuated  by  the  sharp  shriek  of 
some  deeper  sufferer,  or  the  delirious  raving  of  some 
fevered  patient.  Elizabeth  shrank  back  appalled. 

"How  horrible!"  she  murmured.  "Take  me 
away;  I  cannot  stand  it!"  He  caught  her  in  his 
arms;  a  little  more,  and  she  would  have  fainted. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  he  said.  "  In  all  my  battles 
I  never  saw  such  a  ship!  What  a  frightful  scene! 
They  didn't  get  off  without  a  fight,"  he  added 
slowly.  An  officer,  with  head  bound  up  in  a  handker 
chief  and  his  arm  in  a  sling,  was  approaching  them. 

"Sir,"  said  O'Neill,  saluting  the  while,  "I  am 
the  officer  who  escaped  last  night.  I  deliver  myself 
Up  to —  Why,  it's  Stacey !  "  he  cried,  in  great 
surprise,  recognizing  a  brother  officer  of  the  Richard. 
"  What  do  you  here,  man  ?  " 

"'Fore  Gad,  it's  O'Neill!"  cried  the  other. 
"  Glad  are  we  to  see  you,  man.  But  this  lady  —  this 
is  no  place  for  her. " 

"  She  goes  with  me,"  said  O'Neill,  briefly.  "But 
you?" 

"This  is  where  I  belong." 

"  And  they  have  captured  you,  I  suppose  ? " 
236 


ON   BOARD   THE   SERAPIS  AGAIN 

"No;  the  ship  is  ours." 

"And  the  old  Richard?"  cried  O'Neill. 

"Abandoned  and  sunk  after  the  surrender,"  an 
swered  the  young  officer.  "  She  was  cut  to  pieces 
by  the  Serapis's  fire,  but  we  have  this  ship." 

"Thank  God!"  answered  O'Neill,  fervently. 
"And  Captain  Jones?" 

"Aft  there  on  the  quarter-deck." 

"Come,  Elizabeth,"  he  cried,  seizing  her  by  the 
arm;  and,  he  assisting  her,  they  made  their  way 
with  difficulty,  in  the  confusion,  to  the  quarter 
deck. 

"Ah,  O'Neill,  thank  God  I  see  you  alive  again!  " 
said  Jones,  springing  forward,  his  face  beaming. 
"We  got  there  in  time,  then,  I  see." 

"Yes,  sir,  thanks  to  this  lady,"  answered  O'Neill, 
pointing  to  Elizabeth. 

"Madam,  you  are  fit  for  a  sailor's  bride,"  said  the 
little  captain. 

"'Tis  high  praise,  sir,  from  Captain  Jones,  I  pro 
test,"  she  answered,  rallying  herself  in  the  relief  of 
assured  safety. 

"Would  God  that  I  had  been  with  you  in  this 
battle!"  cried  O'Neill,  gloomily. 

"We  missed  you.  I  wished  often  for  you,"  an 
swered  the  captain.  "The  poor  old  Richard  was 
torn  to  pieces  under  our  feet.  We  could  not  stay 
on  her  longer,  so  we  had  to  come  here." 

"And  I  not  there!  I  suppose  that  I  have  for 
feited  everything  forever  for  going  up  to  the  castle. 
Shall  you  break  me,  sir?  " 

237 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Nothing,  nothing,  shall  be  done,  my  poor  boy," 
answered  the  captain,  kindly.  "You  have  bee;: 
punished  enough  by  not  having  been  with  us  in  the 
greatest  battle  ever  fought  on  the  sea.  But  it  seems 
to  me  you  have  not  entirely  lost  the  game.  You, 
too,  have  a  prize  in  tow.  How  go  your  love  affairs  ?  " 
he  whispered. 

"Well,  indeed,  sir;  the  Lady  Elizabeth  is  here, 
as  you  see.  We  are  to  be  married  at  once,  sir." 

"You  may  have  the  chaplain  of  the  Serapis  for 
that  purpose. " 

"  Yes,  sir.  When  he  last  officiated  for  me,  he 
was  reading  my  funeral  service,"  replied  O'Neill, 
smiling. 

"Some  people  would  say  it's  much  the  same 
thing,"  laughed  the  captain;  "but  we  know  better. 
Ah  well,  that's  over  now,  thank  God;  and  this 
lady —  Madam,"  he  said,  turning  to  her,  "I  bade 
you  welcome  to  a  ship  once  before.  It  is  a  different 
ship  now,  but  the  welcome  is  just  the  same." 

"Know  you  aught  of  Major  Edward  Coventry, 
Captain  Jones?"  cried  Elizabeth.  This  time  it 
was  she  who  remembered. 

"  Why,  he  lies  on  the  deck  yonder,  dying.  He 
wouldn't  let  me  take  him  below.  Do  you  know  — 
but  I  forgot,  he  was  your  friend." 

"Take  me  to  him!"  she  cried  hastily,  and  in  a 
moment  she  was  kneeling  by  his  side.  They  had 
made  him  as  comfortable  as  possible  with  cushions 
and  boat  cloaks,  but  his  hours  were  numbered.  His 
head  was  thrown  back,  his  face  ghastly  pale.  Blood- 

238 


ON   BOARD   THE   SERAPIS  AGAIN 

stained  the  linen  of  his  shirt  about  his  breast.     His 
eyes  were  closed  ;  the  end  was  at  hand. 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  O'Neill,  in  great  sorrow, 
"he  died  for  me;"  and  then  he  briefly  recounted 
the  circumstances  of  their  escape  to  the  astonished 
captain. 

"Do  you  know  how  he  was  wounded,  sir?"  he 
asked. 

"It  was  my  own  hand  that  struck  the  blow,"  an 
swered  Jones.  "Would  it  had  been  otherwise! 
There  was  a  moment  in  the  action  when  they 
sprang  to  board.  He  leaped  upon  the  rail,  cutlass 
in  hand;  he  was  a  fair  and  easy  mark;  I  met  them 
with  a  pike,  which  I  buried  in  his  bosom.  He 
fell  back  smiling.  I  remember  that  I  thought  it 
strange  to  see  him  smiling  at  that  time,  even  in 
the  heat  of  the  battle  —  too  bad  —  too  bad !  "  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  Edward ! "  cried  the  girl,  tears  streaming 
down  her  face,  "  I  never  thought  to  see  you  thus !  I 
never  meant  to  bring  you  to  this !  If  you  could  but 
speak  to  me  —  to  say  that  you  forgave  me  for  it  all ! 
If  I  could  have  your  blessing  before  —  "  The  man 
stirred  a  little  and  opened  his  eyes.  He  looked 
about  him  vacantly,  but  consciousness  began  to 
dawn  again,  and  with  the  dawn  came  recognition. 
It  was  the  face  of  Elizabeth  bending  over  him.  She 
was  the  woman  whom  he  loved.  There,  back  of 
her,  was  O'Neill.  He  began  to  comprehend. 

"Elizabeth,"  he  murmured,  "my  death  —  not  in 
vain  —  then." 

239 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Forgive  me  —  forgive  me,"  she  cried  brokenly. 
"Oh,  forgive  me!  I  did  love  you!" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  faintly  smiling;  "but — not 
like  —  " 

He  glanced  at  O'Neill.  "You,  too!"  he  mur 
mured;  "make  —  her — happy."  His  mind  wandered 
a  little.  "Father,"  he  cried  suddenly,  "don't  look 
at  me  in  that  way!  I  did  it  because  I  loved  her; 
her  happiness  before  mine." 

"Oh,  doctor,  can  nothing  be  done;  is  there  no 
hope?"  cried  O'Neill  to  the  attending  surgeon. 

"Nothing,  sir.  'Twill  not  be  long  now,"  an 
swered  the  surgeon,  shaking  his  head. 


240 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

Not  Guilty,  my  Lord 

"  f~ INHERE  'S  a  boat  comin'  alongside,  sir,"  said 
JL       a  midshipman  to  Captain  Jones,  "flying  an 
admiral's  flag." 

"Ah,  that  will  be  our  friend  Lord  Westbrooke," 
he  said,  turning  toward  the  gangway.  "  Show  him 
to  me  if  he  comes  on  board."  Elizabeth  knelt  by 
the  side  of  the  dying  man,  who  had  sunk  into  silence 
again,  and  bathed  his  head  with  her  handkerchief, 
while  the  doctor  applied  some  simple  restorative. 
In  a  moment  the  stately  form  of  the  old  admiral 
stepped  through  the  gangway,  and  he  looked  about 
him  in  astonishment. 

"  God  bless  me,  what  a  fight !  I  knew  that  rebel 
was  a  desperate  man,  but  I  never  imagined  anything 
like  this!  Captain  Pearson?"  said  he,  imperiously. 
"Where  is  he?" 

"Here,  my  Lord,"  said  Pearson,  mournfully,  com 
ing  out  of  the  cabin,  where  he  had  withdrawn  a 
little. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  sir,  on  —  " 

"  Stop,  sir ! "  cried  the  captain,  in  great  agony. 
"You  do  not  understand.  This  ship  —  we  were  not 
successful." 

16  241 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"What!"  cried  the  admiral.  "Is  not  this  the 
Serapis? " 

"  Ay,  but  she  belongs  — • " 

"To  the  Navy  of  the  United  States,  sir,"  said 
a  calm  voice  at  his  elbow,  which  made  him  start; 
"and  she  is  now  commanded  by  Captain  John  Paul 
Jones,  at  your  service.  I  shall  be  glad  to  supply  you 
with  a  yard-arm,  if  you  have  need  of  one,  my  Lord — " 

"  Good  God ! "  said  the  old  man,  turning  to  Jones. 
"And  the  Richard?" 

"We  sunk  her,  sir,"  answered  Pearson,  "but  it 
was  useless." 

"You  have  done  well,  Captain  Pearson,"  said  the 
admiral.  "  Here  is  evidence  of  the  fight  you  made. 
Never  fear;  you  shall  receive  reward.  'Twas  a 
defeat  as  noble  as  a  capture." 

"Ay,"  said  Captain  Jones,  "I  can  bear  witness 
to  the  desperate  nature  of  the  resistance.  "'Twas 
such  as  I  have  never  met  before  in  twenty  battles 
on  the  sea. " 

"  Pearson  —  my  —  my  —  son  —  "  said  the  admiral, 
huskily.  "  How  did  he  bear  himself  in  the  fight  ?  " 

"Well  and  nobly,  sir,  as  I  can  testify,"  added 
Pearson. 

"I,  too,"  said  Jones,  —  "I  saw  him.  'Twas  he 
who  led  your  boarders,  Captain  Pearson,  when  they 
tried  to  sweep  our  decks." 

"And  is  he  well?"  said  the  old  admiral,  striving 
to  school  himself  into  composure.  "That  charge, 
you  know,  Pearson;  I  think  we  need  not  press  it 
now?"  he  added. 

242 


NOT   GUILTY,   MY  LORD 

"No,  not  now,  nor  ever,  sir,"  said  Pearson,  mourn 
fully.  "  Compose  yourself,  my  dear  admiral ;  he  —  " 

"I  am  a  veteran,"  said  the  admiral.  "I  have 
looked  death  in  the  face  for  fifty  years.  Speak 
plainly.  You  would  say  that  he  is  dead." 

"Not  yet,  sir,"  answered  Jones,  gently. 

"  Where  is  he  ?     Take  me  to  him  ! " 

"He  lies  aft  there  on  the  quarter-deck,  sir." 

The  little  group  around  the  dying  man  made  way 
for  the  old  admiral.  He  knelt  down  on  the  deck 
opposite  Elizabeth,  not  heeding  the  others,  and 
gazed  long  and  earnestly  in  the  face  of  the  dying 
officer. 

"The  last  of  his  line,"  he  murmured,  "and  he  is 
gone !  "  A  single  tear  trickled  down  the  weather- 
beaten  cheek,  and  splashed  upon  the  face  of  the 
young  man.  "Will  he  live  to  know  me,  think 
you?"  said  the  admiral,  simply,  to  the  surgeon. 

"I  think  so,  yes,"  replied  the  physician.  As  if 
he  had  heard  the  question,  Coventry  opened  his 
eyes;  there  was  recognition  in  them. 

"Father,"  he  murmured  faintly. 

"My  boy — ^my  boy,"  said  the  admiral,  bowing  his 
head,  and  striving,  manlike,  but  in  vain,  to  conceal 
his  emotion. 

"You  told  me — •  not  to  see  you  —  again;  I  tried 
to  obey,"  said  Coventry,  faintly.  "The  charge  —  " 

"It  is  withdrawn;  I  dismiss  it.  You  have  done 
nobly,  Captain  Pearson  says,  and  fought  like  a  hero. 
You  are  forgiven.  I  commend  you,"  said  the  old 
man,  catching  his  other  hand. 

243 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Ah,  so,"  said  Coventry,  smiling  wearily.  "Now 
I  must  go." 

"  Not  yet ! "  cried  the  admiral. 

"I  —  my  Lord  —  "  said  the  young  man,  wander 
ing  again,  "  may  it  please  the  court  —  may  it  please 
the  court  —  "  He  struggled  for  breath.  "  Lift  me 
up,"  he  said. 

"'Twill  be  his  end,"  said  the  doctor,  lifting  a 
warning  finger. 

"Lift  me  up,"  cried  the  dying  man,  more  strongly 
than  before.  The  admiral  nodded.  The  young 
Irishman  lifted  him  a  little. 

"Higher!"  he  cried.  O'Neill  lifted  him  to  a 
sitting  position. 

"Not  guilty,  my  Lord!"  said  the  young  man, 
resolutely,  in  a  loud,  clear  voice,  throwing  his  arms 
out  before  him,  and  still  smiling.  The  blood  gushed 
from  his  lips ;  and  when  they  laid  him  back,  his  plea 
was  heard  in  that  higher  court  before  which  the  rich 
and  the  poor  must  all  finally  appear,  before  which 
the  admiral  and  the  sailor  equally  must  plead. 

"  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  Jiath  taken  away ; 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord"  said  the  chaplain 
of  the  Serapis,  reverently.  The  men  stood  around 
him  in  a  silence  broken  only  by  the  woman's  sobs. 

"He  has  died  like  a  hero,  sir,"  said  Jones  at  last, 
removing  his  hat,  "and  I  venture  to  say  that  no  one 
of  his  gallant  race,  in  all  the  years  of  their  history, 
has  ever  made  a  better  end." 

"Ah,"  said  the  admiral,  rising,  and  mournfully 
regarding  the  little  group,  Elizabeth  praying  by  the 

244 


NOT   GUILTY,   MY  LORD 

side  of  his  son,  O'Neill  still  supporting  his  head, 
"I  made  my  plans,  I  tempted  this  honorable  gentle 
man  to  do  a  shameful  thing;  he  refused,  and  it  has 
all  come  back  upon  me.  I  've  wrought  my  own 
undoing,  gentlemen.  The  hand  of  God  has  worked 
His  will,  not  mine.  I  am  punished;  I  am  overruled. 
He  has  written  this  old  man  childless.  I  go  down 
to  my  grave  alone  —  forever  alone !  " 

"Not  so,"  answered  O'Neill,  rising.  "You  have 
Elizabeth.  Let  me,  too  —  " 

"Peace,  sir!"  said  the  old  man,  waving  him 
back.  "  The  young  cling  together,  —  think  of  each 
other,  —  there  is  nothing  left  for  the  old.  Our  ways 
lie  apart.  I  bear  you  in  no  unkindness,  I  wish  you 
well.  Elizabeth,  I  had  hoped  to  call  you  daughter. 
'Twas  my  own  pride  defeated  the  wish.  May  you 
be  happy  with  this  honest  gentleman!  He  deserves 
you  even  as  did  this,  my  son." 

"My  father  —  my  father  —  "  cried  the  girl,  catch 
ing  his  hand. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head;  his  lips  trembled. 
Gray-faced  and  broken,  all  his  years  upon  him,  he 
turned  away  unsteadily,  as  if  to  go  to  his  barge. 

"Stop,  sir!"  cried  Pearson.  "You  forget  we  are 
not  in  possession  of  the  ship.  We  are  prisoners," 
he  whispered. 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  the  admiral,  "I  had  forgotten  it. 
Well,  it  matters  little  to  me.  Captain  Jones,"  he 
continued,  turning  to  the  little  Scotsman,  and 
proffering  his  sword,  with  a  painful  gesture,  "  I  am 
your  prisoner,  it  seems." 

245 


THE   GRIP   OF   HONOR 

"Sir,"  said  the  little  captain,  and  twenty  genera 
tions  of  gentle  blood  could  not  have  done  it  better, 
"allow  me  to  match  the  act  of  an  American  sailor 
against  the  word  of  an  English  officer.  You  are 
free,  my  Lord.  Your  boat  awaits  you.  If  I  can  do 
aught  —  " 

"Be  it  so,"  said  the  admiral,  simply.  "Let  me 
have  my  boy,  and  we  will  go  away  together,  and  I 
shall  remember  you  differently  in  the  future.  If  in 
England  you  ever  need  a  friend,  remember  this 
moment,  and  call  upon  me.  Farewell." 

And  two  hung  over  the  taffrail  and  watched  the 
white  sails  of  the  little  boat  bearing  away  to  the 
verdant  shore,  where  the  old  castle  still  shone 
in  the  sunlight.  Two,  sad  yet  exultant.  Their 
troubles  were  over  now.  They  had  lost  everything 
else,  but  had  gained  each  other  in  the  losing. 

"We  ought  to  be  very  good  to  each  other,"  said 
the  sweet  voice  of  the  woman,  "  to  make  up  to  God 
all  that  He  has  preserved  us  from." 

"Ay,"  said  O'Neill,  "and  to  give  due  value  to 
the  sacrifice  of  him  who  loved  you,  even  as  I  do 
myself." 


246 


NOVELS    BT    C.     r.    BRADT 

CHARLES     SCRIBNER'S     SONS,    Publishers 
30th  Thousand 

FOR  THE  FREE 
DOM  OF  THE  SEA 

A    ROMANCE    OF   THE   WAR    OF    1812 

With  12  full-page  Illustrations  by 
George    Gibbs,       I2mo.       $i-$O 


There  is  an  honest  manliness  about  his  work  that  compels 
admiration.  —  The  Dial. 

9 

In  every  respect  this  is  a  thoroughly  good  historical  romance, 
in  which  story  and  history  are  cleverly  blended.  Mr.  Brady's 
style  is  light  and  attractive,  and  many  of  the  stirring  sea  ad 
ventures  in  his  book  are  sketched  with  brilliant  effect.  We 
bespeak  for  it  a  hearty  welcome  from  the  story-reading  public. 
No  piece  of  fiction  better  deserves  it.  —  The  Independent. 
? 

Taken  altogether,  Mr.  Brady  has  given  us  a  splendid  story 
of  our  navy,  full  of  action,  of  the  daring  spirit  that  was  behind 
it,  and  of  the  patriotism  and  seamanship  that  won  the  day.  — 
The  New  York  Mail  and  Express. 
9 

The  very  name  of  this  noble  romance  is  like  a  clarion  call. 
Fact  and  fiction  are  skilfully  interwoven  in  these  pages.  The 
basis  is  all  true  and  real,  and  in  and  out  among  the  turmoil  of 
battle  and  the  tense  excitement  of  the  chase  run  the  golden 
threads  of  an  exquisite  love  tale. —  The  Boston  Journal. 


FOR  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  SEA 


This  capital  story  of  the  War  of  1812  has  many  of  the  char 
acteristics  which  have  rendered  previous  books  by  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Brady  so  widely  popular.  ...  As  pretty  a  love  story  as 
has  figured  in  a  romance  for  many  a  long  day.  —  The  New 
Orleans  Picayune. 

No  one  can  read  this  romance  without  a  thrill  of  loyalty 
and  pride  in  the  brave  men,  the  beautiful  women,  who  are 
recreated  in  these  pages.  Mr.  Brady  has  an  excellent  narra 
tive  style,  full  of  "go,"  and,  while  he  never  lapses  into  the 
trivial,  his  portraits  are  not  only  powerful,  but  drawn  with 
grace  and  amenity.  —  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

Cyrus  Townsend  Brady  is  a  newcomer  in  the  literary  field, 
and  he  has  won  his  spurs  at  the  outset  by  a  fine  historical 
romance  of  the  War  of  1812,  entitled  "  For  the  Freedom  of  the 
Sea."  Through  all  the  stirring  scenes  there  runs  a  strong  and 
well-sustained  love  story ;  and,  judged  in  the  light  of  its  cer 
tain  popularity,  "For  the  Freedom  of  the  Sea"  will  doubtless 
become  one  of  the  most  successful  historical  romances  of  the 
day.  —  The  Denver  Republican. 

It  is  a  lively  tale,  full  of  stirring  adventure,  and  has  much 
historical  value  in  its  picture  of  the  times.  —  The  San  Fran 
cisco  Argonaut. 

Mr.  Brady's  romance  is  a  worthy  contribution  to  the  kind  of 
patriotic  fiction  now  highly  in  favor  among  American  novel 
readers.  It  attracted  attention  as  a  serial,  and  it  will  compare 
favorably  with  the  bpst  of  the  historical  romances  of  the  hour. 
—  Chicago  Tribune. 

"  For  the  Freedom  of  the  Sea  "  may  be  rated  a  stanch,  vigor 
ous  story,  with  plenty  of  the  atmosphere  of  the  age  with  which 
it  deals.  —  The  Detroit  Free  Press. 

It  is  a  clean-cut  piece  of  fiction,  full  of  the  glory  of  the  old 
navy,  teeming  with  stirring  adventures.  —  The  Brooklyn  Eagle. 


NOVELS    BT   C.    T.    BRADY 

For  Love  of  Country 

A    STORY    OF    LAND    AND    SEA   IN 
THE  DAYS  OF  THE    REVOLUTION 

Sixth  edition.      I2tno,     $1.25 

The  author  has  written  a  story  which  is  patriotic  to  the  core, 
and  especially  fitted  for  the  day  we  live  in.  It  is  replete  with 
action  and  incident,  and  the  lessons  inculcated  are  of  the 
highest.  —  New  York  Times. 

9 

As  a  romance,  the  story  will  satisfy  the  most  fastidious  in 
the  variety  of  incident  and  the  charm  of  its  love  story;  and 
as  a  direct  transcript  from  the  history  of  the  day,  it  is  unsur 
passed  for  accuracy  and  graphic  interest.  —  The  Philadelphia 
Public  Ledger. 

* 

An  intensely  patriotic  tale.  ...  It  shows  a  careful  study  of 
manners  and  social  conditions  as  well  as  of  military  history. 
Battles  on  sea  and  land  are  described  with  dramatic  effect.  — 
The  Outlook. 

9 

Mr.  Brady  has  blended  fact  and  fancy  charmingly,  proving 
that  the  women  are  worthy  of  every  atom  of  love  bestowed 
upon  them  by  American  heroes.  Again,  Archdeacon  Brady 
has  treated  serious  pages  of  history  so  comprehensively  and 
familiarly  that  he  brings  some  of  the  scenes  of  which  the  na 
tion  is  proud  even  closer  home.  .  .  .  Every  line  is  worthy  of 
the  spirit  that  inspired  it.  —  Boston  Herald. 

There  is  some  good  sea  fighting  under  Paul  Jones  and  other 
commanders,  a  graphic  description  of  the  crossing  of  the 
Delaware  and  the  subsequent  campaign  of  Trenton  and 
Princeton,  and  the  inevitable  love  story.  .  .  .  The  book  is 
clean,  wholesome,  and  spirited,  and  deserves  well  of  the  public. 
—  The  Dial. 


FOR    LOVE    OF    COUNTRY 


A  vigorous  specimen  of  American  historical  fiction.  ...  It 
is  first  of  all  a  patriotic  story,  and  the  patriotism  is  not  of  the 
blustering  sort,  but  is  founded  on  high  ideals  of  character 
and  conduct  in  private  and  public  life.  —  "  Droch  "  in  Life. 

9 

Throughout  its  action  rings  the  true  patriotism  ;  and  the 
changing  panorama  of  sea  and  land,  the  stirring  fights,  and 
the  gallant  men  and  women  who  figure  in  the  story  will  repay 
both  the  reader  who  likes  to  have  his  love  of  his  native  land 
fired  by  a  recital  of  the  deeds  of  its  heroes,  and  the  one  who 
finds  pleasure  in  reading  a  stirring  account  of  adventures.  — 
Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

*- 

Certain  chapters,  notably  the  one  describing  the  battle  be 
tween  the  "Randolph"  and  the  "Yarmouth,"  are  as  moving 
and  exciting  as  any  accounts  of  sea  fights  on  record.  Besides 
the  careful  and  valuable  study  of  Washington,  which  will  give 
it  importance  in  the  estimation  of  older  readers,  its  thrilling 
lessons  of  patriotism  and  its  charming  love  story  will  enchant 
others. —  Chicago  Living  Church. 

9 

The  campaign  of  Washington  against  Howe  in  New  Jersey, 
the  battles  of  Trenton  and  Princeton,  are  described  with  ac 
curacy  and  in  detail.  The  chapters  describing  the  events  have 
more  than  ordinary  historical  value.  .  .  .  The  loyalty  of  men 
on  both  sides  to  love,  friendship,  and  duty  gives  honor  to 
humanity  and  credit  to  the  author.  The  whole  tone  of  the 
book  is  that  of  noble  feeling.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

* 

The  sea  fights  are  portrayed  with  a  graphic  power  well-nigh 
unexampled  in  American  fiction,  while  the  new  view  of  Wash 
ington  in  the  famous  Trenton  and  Princeton  campaign  gives 
the  book  historical  importance.  —  Army  and  Navy  Journal. 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

153-157   FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


A     000  087  324     o 


